Wizard's Spellbook, Mom's Cookbook

Lost Melody

2011-01-18T13:34:00.001+05:30

When this happened, I do not know...
I woke up one day, and you were a part of me,
A soft gossamer scarf over my soul,
An ever present whisper pervading my senses,
A mellifluous song stuck in my mind.

When this happened, I do not know...
I stepped out one day, and felt a pang,
That I was leaving something important behind;
My feet missed a step, my heart skipped a beat;
As I plodded unsurely away from the door.

When this happened, I do not know...
When I'm away from you, I ache for some music,
Though there is no tune that can slake this thirst,
For it is you that I miss, like a lost melody,
I will always be at your side, my first and last melody.

Prashanth Sriram

Cross-posted on my poetry blog.

Confessions of an Imperfect Man

2010-09-01T10:39:00.003+05:30

I'm not perfect, I know.
I don't always speak true.
But I'm happy enough when you say,
"Your word will do; I trust you."

I'm not perfect, I know.
I bring tears as well as smiles.
But I'm happy enough when you shake my hand,
"We can put it behind us; I know you meant well."

I'm not perfect, I know.
I don't know how to be nice to you.
But I'm happy enough when you admit,
"I'm glad you said it to my face, and not behind my back."

I'm not perfect, I know.
I make mistakes all the time.
But I'm happy enough when you believe,
That tomorrow I'll be a better man.

I'm not perfect, I know.
But all things said and done,
I'm really, really happy when you say,
"I'm proud to call you FRIEND."

Cross-posted on my poetry blog.

There came a day...

2009-11-16T00:15:00.001+05:30

There came a day, when I knew
That I was in love…
When I opened the curtains,
And all the colours seemed brighter.
“Has it always been this way?” I gasped.
A butterfly alighted upon my palm.
“Always,” it said, “Always.”

There came a day, when I knew
That I was in love…
My fingers flicked the roses upon my table,
And I breathed in their heady scent.
“Have flowers always smelled so sweet?” I wondered.
I opened the note that came with the flowers,
“Always,” it said, “Always.”

There came a day, when I knew
That I was in love…
I found myself gliding, not walking,
Which is passing strange, as I had always wanted to fly.
“Is this what flying feels like?” I thought aloud.
A sparrow replied from yonder tree,
“Always,” it said, “Always.”

There came a day, when I knew
That I was in love…
A tear rolled down my cheek, and I was annoyed.
“Why are you here?” I asked, “I am not sad.”
“Your eyes are filled with the sweetest face,
And there is no room for me in there.
Now. Tomorrow. Always.”

Cross-posted on my poetry blog

The (Anti)Patriotic Speech

2009-10-27T19:07:00.002+05:30

The following is the content of one of the speeches I gave at the Toastmasters Club in my company.

I am not a Patriot. I’m not even much of an Indian.

I can’t speak good Hindi. I can’t even speak my own mother tongue, Telugu, fluently. English is the language I’m most comfortable with, and I’m infamous for telling people that I only reply in English because I “think” in English. I watch English movies and serials, listen to English music, eat international cuisine. I’ve probably been to more cities in the US than I have in India.

I am not a Patriot.

As soon as I finished my bachelor’s degree in Chennai, I flew to the US for my Master’s, thus becoming a willing contributor to the “brain drain”. It doesn’t matter, of course, that I came back to India in less than three years. After all, nobody asks or cares what your intentions in going abroad were. You don’t need to know if I always intended to come back with skills I knew I wouldn’t be able to gain here. You don’t need to know that I like living in India much more I like living in the US. All that matters is that I left of my own volition. That’s all you need to make a claim that I’m being unpatriotic.

I am not a Patriot.

I don’t care much for “Indian” traditions and customs. For example, I don’t respect all my elders. You see, I have the temerity to believe that respect should be earned.

I am not a Patriot.

I don’t follow any of the Hindu traditions I was raised to. I don’t see what our religious practices have to do with the idea of God; I have a secular outlook. It doesn’t matter that I pray for the well-being of my friends and family; that I go to temples often, and I like their atmosphere of peace and calm. After all, I just admitted that I don’t believe in the Gods of my religion. (Sharp intake of breath) What a huge sin I have committed! How can I call myself a dutiful Indian after that!

It’s interesting then, that on the day of my graduation, I went to a temple in my college campus to give my thanks to God, and found it pretty much deserted. The very same temple, by the way, had been full on the weekend before the exams.

I am not a Patriot.

In fact, I might even qualify as a traitor. You see, one of my good friends is a Pakistani. I met her at a bridge tournament in Beijing, and we’ve been excellent friends since then. The right Indian mentality should be “Bomb every single Pakistani off the face of the Earth,” am I correct? But I would be positively horrified at that. I think that if citizens were to be held accountable for the actions of their governments, almost every human being on the planet would be hanged, including us.

Going by conventional yardsticks, it doesn’t matter that I insisted that a portion of my first salary from both my research assistantship and my job at Sabre go to a charitable cause. It doesn’t matter that I have played bridge for our country at the international level, and I still consider representing our country as one of my most meaningful ambitions in life. How can these things possibly count against all the anti-Indian things that I do?

Come to think of it, even the people I admire in my life are not patriotic. My mother can never remember who is our current President or Prime Minister. She doesn’t know our country’s stance on world issues, or our defense capabilities. What she knows is how to be a shining role model and inspiration for thousands of women, being one of the top woman entrepreneurs in South India. What she knows is how to do social service, and how to empower and uplift women. That’s probably very un-Indian of her, too: going against our time-honoured tradition of discriminating against women.

I have a friend here in Bangalore, who did her bachelors and her masters in the US. She came back, and rather than take up any of several high-paying jobs, she chose to work for an NGO in the daytime. In the evenings, she works for a non-profit organization on teaching English to underprivileged kids. But she’s very unpatriotic, you know, probably because of all that time spent abroad: she often participates in protests against government policies… policies like cutting down trees - how awful is that?!

My friends, the point I am driving at, is simple. There are many things in this world that should not be defined by others. They should be defined by you. I beg you. I implore you. Please do not go by any yardstick other than your own. Even if a million people believe something, that does not make it automatically true. Live by conscience, live by morals, live by principles; but let it be your conscience and your moral code. Do what you believe is right and don’t go by what society says. That is the key, to living with self-respect, and without regret.

I am a Patriot. I just happen to define it the way my heart tells me.

Thank you.

Honey, I forgot to charge the...

2009-09-11T23:52:00.002+05:30

... the laptop?
... the mobile phone?
... no, the car!

I was on my way home from work one evening and was witness to a very curious sight. A petite little Reva electric car was stuck between two speed breakers, a man trying quite unsuccessfully to push the car over the one in the front. The speed breakers were so precisely spaced that he couldn't get any sort of momentum going in either direction, so until he rustled up another man or two for help, the car was most definitely stuck.

I've studied electric vehicles in the bygone era when I was in mechanical engineering, so I know for a fact that the car would have enough torque to get out of its spot... unless it ran out of battery power.

I can almost picture the guy going home late and his wife asking him what took him so long. "Honey, I forgot the charge the car," would be a stand out candidate for "Excuse of the Year" ;)

Cheers,
Prashanth.

The Case of the Coly Flower

2009-08-31T22:20:00.002+05:30

I was waiting patiently at the billing counter of the grocery store. The guy behind the counter was a bit slow and I was getting a trifle vexed. When I saw him struggling with the billing software by entering "COLLY" and looking for a match when the item he was billing was a Cauliflower, I felt obligated to add a helpful "Try C.A.U.LI.."

The man shook his head and thought furiously. Finally he changed it to "COLY" and sure enough, he got a match, "COLY FLOWER".

There's got to be a "Moral of the Story" in here somewhere :). Aren't we all forced to do dumb things at our workplace because there's no other option to make things work?

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Diamonds are too glittery

2009-08-05T23:59:00.002+05:30

I keep getting distracted every now and then by something shiny and flashy on my finger. Every now and then I glance at it, and I'm like, "Oh! Right. The ring." I guess I'm still not quite used to it.

I'm talking about the engagement ring. Oh, did I skip something?

Right. I got engaged last weekend. Had a huge and glitzy function organized by the in-laws. I thought I looked all decent and grown up, and even got some bright smiles out. My fiance doesn't realize it, but she has to thank my Karachi friends for giving me lessons in Smiling 101.

These days I say "we" a lot more often than "I" or "you". Well, what can I say, I asked for a change in my life, and I got it :). Now I'll see about making the most of it.

We will make the most of it.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

P.S. Will put up engagement pics on facebook soon, just give me a few days.

26

2009-07-20T06:45:00.003+05:30

Well...

I've got to admit. This year was much better than 25 and 24 :)

And what an awesome start to the day. The first thing I see is a gift-wrapped parcel from someone special. Then I reach my brother's house and my two-year old nephew wishes me a happy birthday in that super-cute voice that only tiny tots have.

Now it's time to get ready for office and the daily rigmarole. But the day is already different from every other birthday I've had till now... lets see how it ends, shall we?

Edit: Ended with chocolate cake on my face and gifts and cards in my hands. Twas awesome :)

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Phir Dekhiye from Rock On

2009-07-14T17:09:00.009+05:30

Really appeals to the poet in me... spent half an hour trying to get the translation right :)
Thanks to Goda for helping with the translation!

The Lyrics:

Aankhon Mein Jis Ke Koi To Khwab Hai
Khush Tha Wahin Jo Thoda Betaab Hai
Zindagi Mein Koi Arzoo Kijiye
Phir Dekhiye..

Hoton Pe Jis Ke Koi To Geet Hai
Woh Haare Bhi To Us Ki Hi Jeet Hai
Dil Mein Jo Geet Hai Gun Guna Lijiye
Phir Dekhiye..

Yaadon Mein Jis Ke Kisi Ka Naam Hai
Sapno Ke Jaise Us Ki Har Sham Hai
Koi To Aaj Se Apna Dil Dijiye
Phir Dekhiye..

Khwab Bhun Yeh Zara Geet Sun Yeh Zara
Phool Chun Yeh Zara
Phir Dekhiye..

The Translation:

When your eyes hold a dream,
You will be happy, even if restless;
So aspire to something in your life,
And see what happens...

When have a song on your lips,
You will find, there is no such thing as defeat;
So keep that song humming in your heart,
And see what happens...

When someone is always in your thoughts,
You will be living your dream every single day;
So give your heart to that someone,
And see what happens...

So why don't you
Dream some dreams...
Play some songs...
Admire some flowers...
And see what happens...

Bing sucks

2009-06-02T00:24:00.001+05:30

Microsoft's at it again. Do any search from Bing and you won't find a single hit from a Google product, especially blogger.com. Go ahead, try it. Search for something that would turn up in the first page under a .blogspot.com link from Google. You'll never find it via Bing.

I call for a Bing boycott. Or another anti-trust case. Whatever. Microsoft Works is an oxymoron.

The Proposal

2009-05-10T12:46:00.002+05:30

(After more than two and a half years, I wrote a poem. Hopefully, there will be more this year.)

A billion stars winked at her teasingly
From the clear night sky.
A million thoughts careened inside her head
In every possible direction.
A thousand smiles they had exchanged
Over the years.
A hundred reasons she could think of
To say no.
A dozen roses held tantalizingly
In front of her.
Two people waiting on the moor
In that most poignant of moments.
One person to spend
The rest of her life with?

To find, perhaps,
Countless joys, depthless trust,
Boundless love, endless happiness,
And priceless memories?

She took a deep breath,
And said, "Yes".

Prashanth Sriram.

Cross-posted on my poetry blog.

Journey to a smile

2009-04-11T23:21:00.002+05:30

"Smile!"

"You too, Prashanth!"

"But I am smiling."

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

This was the scene at Beijing when I was taking some farewell pics... see, I'd made some friends at the World Mind Sports and it was highly probable that I would never meet them again (probability is still the same). The thing is, I'm notoriously bad at posing for photos. Above mentioned friend commented on above mentioned photograph on facebook, "You don't know how to smile. Period."

It's not that I don't know how to smile. I just don't know how to smile on demand. I laugh and smile very well. But, you see, that's only when I am actually laughing or smiling at something. If I'm told to smile for a photograph it inevitably comes out like a half-smile... or a half-smirk as somebody once put it. Anyway, I count those ten minutes of smile lessons at beijing as an investment that paid off later.

Later being this week. My bachelor days being numbered, I was ordered to get some photos taken at the studio for distribution to the owners of matching horrorscopes. And that brought me back to my old arch-nemesis: a camera lens pointed at me. The cameraman actually had to plead with me to smile. "An open-mouthed smile! An open-mouthed smile!" he begged, when all I could muster after five minutes of entreaty was a widening of my lips.

I was reminded of that scene in Harry Potter when he has to get summon a Patronus by thinking happy thoughts. Well, here I was faced with my own Boggart and fresh out of inspiration to smile. So I filled my thoughts with how ridiculous I thought this exercise was... you know... the whole arranged marriage process... and broke out in laughter. The cameraman didn't lose the serendipitous moment and clicked away, leaving a photograph that my brother proudly described as my best one ever.

It's been a long journey to find my smile. And even though I found it for the strangest of reasons and in the strangest of ways, I'm still glad I found it. I hope it sticks.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Say it out aloud

2009-03-29T18:32:00.003+05:30

Have you wondered how a particular person - say your mother, or your friend - can always tell when you're lying? The human brain is a brilliant and natural lie detector; only caveat is that you need to know the person who is speaking, be familiar with his voice and intonation.

It occurred to me that this might be useful to figure out when you're lying to yourself. That's right. Yourself. The next time you have a doubt as to whether you did the right thing, or are doing the right thing - whether you may have deluded yourself that something is true, or lied to yourself because it is convenient to do so, apply this test. Say it out aloud. You'd be surprised. You can often tell from the sound of your own voice, from the conviction in it, if you've been lying to yourself all along.

I had an argument with someone a few weeks ago, and some harsh words were said. When I revisited it in my mind I couldn't quite figure out who had been in the wrong. So I said it aloud, "I was a jerk," and I knew it to be true.

Perhaps this has more applications... a relationship litmus test, anyone? Say it out aloud, "I am in love," and you'll know if it is true or not? ;)

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Short Story: Speak, friend, and enter

2009-02-06T00:13:00.005+05:30

(This is purely a work of fiction. Any reference to real life events or characters is simply to give a context for the story.)

People say the internet is getting more and more useless by the day because of the sheer volume of false and unreliable information – and people – on it. But I have always maintained that this is a statement for amateurs. For those know how to find something, the net is a treasure trove.

Take for instance, book clubs. An internet book club is a great place to find people with similar reading interests – something that rarely happens in real life, especially if you are a bit eclectic in your tastes.

It was at one of these internet book clubs that I ran into Dosti.

I had entered a Khaled Hosseini book club and walked into an impassioned speech on the Western perception of Islam. In general, these clubs are like just any other chatroom: there will be a good amount of light and irrelevant conversation going on, interspersed with a thread of genre-related discussion and a thread of interesting interpretation on something in the book. But this… this was different. It was as if you walked into a crowded room and found one commanding presence, one commanding voice, weaving a spell through the audience. I suddenly wanted to know what that voice would sound like, what that face would look like in real life.

Now, unlike most Americans, I can speak a little when it comes to Asian languages. So I knew that Dosti meant Friendship. And true to her nickname, I found her a genuinely friendly person, witty and charming in an engaging way, with an endearing tendency to launch off into eloquent speeches on social issues. I must admit, while I care about the emancipation of women oppressed in certain societies, the hardships undergone by children in poverty-stricken places, that the perpetrators of Islamic fundamentalist terrorism are victims of a sort, and so on, it takes a special sort of charisma to hold my attention on these topics. We all inure ourselves, not wanting to know, not wanting to do, anything about such things. But this woman… she broke through my shell, and even before I typed my first personal message to her, she was a friend. A friend who could make me care about things I thought long buried.

She pried that out, too, so softly that I didn’t even realize what I was saying, without realizing that I was crying. There was a time when I was a student of history, of sociology. A time when I was active in seeking knowledge about the people who live in our world, identifying with them, and thinking about how I could help.

And then 9/11 happened. Followed by a misguided “war” on terror. My father, who was a high ranking military officer, was involved daily in planning “precision” strikes and “snatch and grabs” that inevitably left innocent lives ruined in their wake. And so I distanced myself from it all. From a promising career at Washington, I turned into a consultant for software on history and such.

It was funny, the places I would find her online. Tolkien. Milton. The “I wish I had thrown the shoe at Bush” club. The “Islam preaches compassion, not hate” club. That last one had been started by her.

She was a feminist, but not the kind who wants more days for maternity leave or more executive level jobs for women. She argued for girls to go to school everywhere, for a woman to be able to walk on a road without covering their face with a burkha, for a woman to have the right to choose her husband without dying gruesomely in an “honour killing”.

One day, when I couldn’t hold my curiosity, I invited her to a voice chat. I had to know what she sounded like.

She picked up.

“Hi!”

“Now will you tell me your real name?”

It was a standing joke. Whenever I asked her for her real name, she would evade it melodramatically.

This time, I could hear her mellifluous laugh.

“My name is so lovely, it can open the gates to the mines of Moria!”

Now this one I was familiar with. It was from The Lord of the Rings, where the fellowship seek passage through the mines but are defeated by an inscription that says, “Speak, friend, and enter.” The mighty Gandalf tries a bunch of dwarvish passwords but fails. Then one of hobbits asks him for the word “friend” in elvish. “Mellon” replies Gandalf, and the gates swing open dramatically.

“You are a Melon?” I asked in mock horror.

“Sorry, Walker, wrong again! But tell you what, you tell me your real name now and I will consider telling you mine.”

Walker (followed by the inevitable string of numbers to make it unique) was my ID. It also happened to be my real name.

“My name is Luke Walker.” It really is. Don’t ask.

“Come on, be serious.”

“What can I say, my Dad hadn’t watched Star Wars before he named me!”

At this she broke into peals of laughter. I don’t know how long she laughed, but I would happily have stood at that other end listening to the laugh even if it lasted all day.

“Ohhh, Luke! That was almost worth telling you my name in exchange!”

“Not fair! You said you would tell me!”

“I said I would consider it,” she said slyly.

That was the first of several long conversations. We must have talked about everything, but somehow at the end of it I didn’t know her name or even which country she was in. There was one recurring theme, though. She would ask me what was my mission in my life.

“To raise a family, and live quietly and happily.”

I could almost visualize her making a face at that.

“And you?”

“I want to change the world,” she would declare.

“Hard to see how a kindergarten teacher can do that,” I tried to tease. But at that her tone grew serious.

“I teach the next generation of boys and girls to love and not hate, to live in harmony and compassion instead of war and revenge. If that’s not changing the world, I don’t know what is.”

It was because of statements like that, and everything else. Thanks to her, I changed. Inside. In ways I didn’t realize until it happened.

It began with her giving me her phone number. She said she was going to a small village to meet some relatives, and as she wouldn’t have access to the internet, I could call her up if I got lonely. She had already told me not to try to track her down through her IP address. This was even bigger a temptation, because with a phone number you can find out anything. I resisted it. I didn’t want to lose her trust.

As things would have it, it was she who called from it, even before I called her. And that too at an inopportune time. I was deep in a conversation with Dad, who was upset about a planned airstrike that would result in too many civilian casualties to his liking.

“Luke?”

I could hear a lot of noise in the background. They sounded disturbingly like explosions.

“Dosti?”

“I’m scared.”

“Where are you?”

“In the mayor’s office in ____” she named the same country, the same village that my Dad had just named.

My blood ran cold. My heart must have stopped beating for longer than is safe. I was seized with an overwhelming sense of foreboding.

“Luke…”

There was a very loud explosion and the line went dead.

My Dad would tell me of this day later. How shaken, panicked and desperate I was. How many strings he had to pull to transport me to that village, to get a battalion there and have a hospital of sorts set up in record time. But I don’t remember all that. I only remember walking into the hospital and enquiring about people brought in from the Mayor’s office. I remember scanning the list, wondering if I would even recognize her name if I saw it.

I saw it.

The name was “Dosti”. So she had told me her real name the whole time. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

I asked someone about her. I learnt that her entire family had been wiped out, and that she had survived, but with a broken leg, two broken ribs, and a concussion.

I cried.

When I reached her bedside, she seemed to be asleep. I took her hand in mine. She spoke without opening her eyes. She knew it could only be me.

“Can you take me away, Luke? Back to your country. There is nothing left for me here.”

“I think so. They may take a few days to clear it, but since they have your ID and your papers it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere for a few days anyway,” she gestured to her leg in the cast. I smiled through the tears.

“Don’t cry,” she said softly. Obviously she didn’t know that when a girl loses everything, she is supposed to be the one crying and be comforted by the handsome prince.

The time after that, till this day, was a whirlwind. I used my Dad’s connections to resuscitate my career and earn myself a place in the foreign service. Dosti threw herself into one humanitarian cause after another. I put up a sign outside her office saying, “Speak, friend, and enter.” She put up one outside my office saying, “The Force is in every one of us.” They were the happiest days of my life.

We watched America’s first black president give his acceptance speech. I saw her mouth “change the world” while listening to it. A week later I got a letter inviting me to be a member of his foreign policy team.

“Change the world?” she asked as I read it.

“Change the world,” I confirmed. And we both smiled.

X ----- X ----- X

Striking items off the list

2009-02-03T20:00:00.002+05:30

Netless in Bangalore: the reason for my long absence from this blog. But I'm back now :)

If I had to sum up what I've been doing in the time since my last post, I would put it in this way: I've been striking items off my list. You know. That invisible list that all of us keep, of important things to do or change about your life. Get a job you like. Buy that motorbike. That kind of stuff.

It's incredible, but I've struck off every item on that list. Pretty unbelievable considering the state of affairs in my life for the past two years or so. In other words, I have a stable existence with a good job, good friends, a life outside of work, a sufficiently convenient place to live, time and even inclination for personal pursuits. Wow! Well, forget about goals, ambitions, things to accomplish in life, etc. Can't do those things, and can't take satisfaction in them if you're not happy, right?

So here I am. After a long time and after a lot of dashed hopes, at a place where I can once again start pursuing my dreams. A foundation to start building upon. Different dreams; different hopes; different goals. But you have to play the cards that life deals you. When life hands you lemons, make lemonade, they say :)

I am ready to make lemonade.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Move in, Move out

2008-11-07T21:13:00.002+05:30

Moving to a new place is often an emotional experience. There's sadness about who and what you're leaving behind. There's some apprehension as to how things will work out: will you be able to make good friends? What will your lifestyle be like? etc. And then, there's hope. Hope that you can do better this time with the clean slate you've been offered. Hope that you won't repeat your past mistakes (and not make whole new ones either!).

It was with the enthusiasm, brashness and optimism of youth that I went to the US and returned much mellowed, much more sober, much more a realist. This includes the time I moved to a single bedroom apartment there from the 3-bedroom I shared with many guys: I set up my new place so well you wouldn't believe it was I who did it. I put up photos and even art on the walls. I equipped my kitchen with everything from toaster, blender type stuff to chappathi-making equipment. I kept the place clean, tidy and orderly. I had cable tv and high speed internet. I had some decent furniture. I bought a car (a Honda Accord, at that!). I think overall I spent a small fortune, in terms of money, time and love. And then my health problems returned to plague me, and I suddenly had to leave, dropping everything, and I mean everything. I sold the car and gave away (or threw away) everything else. It was heartbreaking.

So you will understand when I tell you how apprehensive I am about moving this time. I have just joined a job in Bangalore, and am on the apartment hunt again. When I move in completely, what will happen? Will my life be as rich and enjoyable as it was at IITM? Or will it be "move in, move out" all over again, for whatever reason?

I take a deep breath. I plunge, and I hope. I pray. I dream. I dare.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Civilizations Varied, Wisdom Unbounded

2008-10-24T21:19:00.004+05:30

That was the logo for the 1st World Mind Sports Games held at Beijing this month. We stayed at an apartment a kilometer away from the Bird's Nest. The accommodations arranged were awesome: we had a living room, equipped kitchen, even a washing machine. I was pleasantly surprised that the food arranged was excellent, after having heard so many warnings from people who had visited China earlier.

They know about the fork

My brother's work took him to Taiwan just a couple of weeks before I left for Beijing, and he was telling us that people ate everywhere with chopsticks. Not a spoon or fork to be found! Not even those plastic ones at corner stores! My Mom was so aghast that she packed a box of plastic spoons and forks for my trip. Needless to say, our buffets were of high quality in every sense of the word and the spoons went straight to the dust bin. My friend said it reminded him of the Seinfeld quip, "They know about the fork. But they prefer the chopsticks."

That's what I call a Bus

I was quite impressed by the infrastructure in Beijing. The roads were excellent, as were all forms of public transportation. It cost 1 RMB (about 7 rupees) for going to most places in the city, often longer than a 45 minute commute. A particularly long commute cost 1.5 RMB. The quality of the buses was very good, and they were as safe as in the US. I spied kids getting into the bus after school, and they would have their RFID bus passes inside their pencil boxes, so they simply tapped the pencil box to the reader when they got in.

Efficiency

I think German efficiency may become a phrase of the past. The Chinese are amazing at getting things done with minimum cost and maximum efficiency. Functionality without sacrificing quality seemed to be the norm everywhere. No frills except where they are expected. I could see it in the furniture. I could see it in their electronics. I could see it in their work ethic. I could see it in their culture.

You don't mess with the Chinese

Security guards were there everywhere I went. I often saw soldiers training, right in the middle of Beijing. Their TV channels showed their most recent military achievement, and displayed their military might and discipline. Every guard or policeman I saw looked well capable of defending himself. No flab on sight. Pot-bellied policeman is an oxymoron, not a norm in China. When I climbed the Great Wall, I found myself huffing and puffing at the steep junctures, but even old men and women walked past me with less effort.

Sightseeing

I enjoyed my taste of Chinese culture. The Summer Palace was really amazing. We hired a guide to show us around and explain stuff, and she entertained us with all the old myths and stories of the Chinese. Little things, like talking about the corridor of the four seasons where the ceiling and sides are covered with paintings, each painting depicting one story or a scene from a story in Chinese myth. There were in fact thousands of paintings, and history says the artist spent 15 years working on them tirelessly. Or the significance of there being 17 arches in the bridge (the royal boat passed through the central, biggest arch, which was deliberately made arch number 9 as it is an auspicious number for the chinese). The Great Wall was also awe-inspiring. A very pleasant place to spend a morning walking, except it was pretty crowded at the area we visited.

No bargain, no gain

I'm a notoriously bad bargainer in India. I was downright awful in China. Whenever I bought something, I would find out that someone else had bought the same thing for less than half the price I paid for it. It doesn't help that in China you start bargaining at 5% of the price they quote and end at about 10%. If you've studied auction theory, throw it out the window. It doesn't work in China.

Oh yes, we were there for Bridge

Almost forgot. How did the Bridge go? Well, we got our asses kicked. The European teams put us to shame. But it was a learning experience, and I know that the next time I play on the international arena I will do better. One can only hope I get another chance.

At the Great Wall. (From left: Vinoth, Myself, Guthi)

At the Summer Palace

At the Bridge Table. How serious I look!

Overall it was a really fun trip, and a nice change from Chennai. It definitely lifted my spirits, quality of our play notwithstanding!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

P.S. The logo is short for: "Civilizations have different origins; but Wisdom knows no boundaries."

It's time...

2008-09-29T14:34:00.002+05:30

Yep, time for me to fly to Beijing. Already. And I didn't even get in one blog post in two months.

One of the reasons why there was no blog post is because nothing much is going on in life right now, nothing that makes me think. Other than bridge, that is; I've been bridge blogging regularly. It looks like life won't allow me to "turn the page" until I finish this tournament.

Been attending job interviews, a couple of cos look promising; I don't know whether I will end up in Bangalore or Chennai as of now. This job search is taking waaaaaay longer than I expected.

Wish me luck. For Beijing as well as the Job hunt. I will be back in India on the 19th.

Cheers
Prashanth.

I hereby solemnly swear

2008-08-02T15:05:00.001+05:30

... to stop making bridge references on this blog until I fly to Beijing.

Really? You weren't sarcastic?

2008-08-02T00:00:00.003+05:30

I think I have been around the sarcastic types for too long.

I was talking to a friend about the Dashavataram movie, and I said I liked the ending (the movie dragged in the middle). The conversation was on SMS and she replied saying something like "Yeah, especially the Pearl Harbour part".

Now a little background for those who haven't seen the movie. The scene she mentioned was one where the Japanese guy is in a fist-fight with the ex-CIA mercenary. The CIA guy tries to sledge the Japanese guy by saying "Remember Hiroshima?" and the Japanese guy replies, "Remember Pearl Harbour?". A totally corny scene, I thought. I naturally concluded that she was being sarcastic. I replied saying, "Come on, the movie wasn't that bad" and she got totally confused. Apparently she actually meant that she liked the movie and the ending - including the Pearl Harbour reference.

Yet another incident: I was playing bridge and pulled off a tricky play after much thinking. My partner commented, "Why were you thinking so much? Should have been straightforward for someone at your level," and I told him to cut out the sarcasm. That's because it was a tough problem and it took me a lot of thought to get it right. But turns out he wasn't being sarcastic either, and he actually felt I was an advanced enough player that it should have been a breeze for me.

I've been around people making sarcastic comments for so long that I've started thinking everyone is like that. Have to remember what's normal in this world :)

You reading this, Sakshi?

Cheers,
Prashanth.

25

2008-07-21T13:14:00.000+05:30

Yep. That's how old I am now.

Sigh.

Take a risk

2008-06-18T22:11:00.002+05:30

At our weekly club bridge game last week, on one board, my partner was in a situation wherein there were two possible lines of play: a safe one and a slightly risky one; the risky one having the chance to gain one trick if right or lose one trick if wrong. From the play to the previous tricks, it was a good bet that the risky line would work; I knew it and he knew it, but he still chickened out at the last moment and took the safe line, ending up with an average score instead of a good score.

Funnily enough, I made the same type of mistake in an online game this week, this time there being even less chance of the so-called risky line failing.

What is it about risk that makes normally intelligent and bold people behave like nervous cowards? We all have a tendency to view choices as 50-50 propositions: safe or risky, and end up choosing the safe one most of the time. How many of us stop to think about the odds of the risky choice working out, and decide to take it if it had, say, a 75% or an 80% chance of working out?

This is what I like about bridge. It makes you think about the way you approach your own life.

You understand that life is less about making the brilliant moves and more about not making the stupid ones.

You understand that life isn't a mathematical computation. You have to take people into consideration, and a good psychologist will probably end up doing better than a good mathematician.

You understand that life is a partnership, and partnership is about trust. You can only get so far on your own; trusting your partner is vital to success.

You understand that talent is a good thing, but hard work is better.

You understand that to get ahead, you have to take calculated risks. Confidence is important. Without self-confidence, you won't back yourself to take even a slight risk, and if you don't take risks, you'll be stuck.

My self-confidence has taken a beating from recent events, and it is no wonder that I've suddenly changed from a fearless and headstrong individual into a play-it-safe kinda guy. It is good to have gotten rid of the reckless edge to my behaviour, but getting one's self-confidence back is a slow process.

All part of the learning process...

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Your Favourite Traveling Companion

2008-06-09T15:37:00.010+05:30

The trip to Goa was a lot of fun. I, Guthi, Ashok and Vinoth constituted the bridge team and we had to think of a team name. We considered "Chennai Super Jacks", but settled for "Chennai Knaves" (for the uninitiated, the Jack is also called the Knave in card games). Although we didn't do as well as we would have liked, Ashok and Vinoth in particular having some pretty forgettable sessions, our past performances pulled their weight and Guthi and I got selected for India's U-28 team to Beijing for the World Mind Games. Vinoth got into the U-26 team (think of it as an event for all the 'B' teams... but don't tell Vinoth I said that :P) and Ashok didn't make it. Six players were selected for each team, so India's junior bridge contingent alone is going to come up to twelve players.

In case that didn't sink in,

YOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I'm going to be playing for our Nation at the biggest bridge tournament in the whole wide world!!!

Unlike the Bombay tournament in Jan when I was meeting most of the junior players for the first time, this time we were more familiar with each other, having also played with and against each other online a few times. So the conversations were more relaxed and informal, a lot of joking and leg-pulling and bridge talk. All in all it was good fun and I got to know the entire junior bridge circle in India. Because the tournament turn out was lower than what the organizers had hoped for (only about 23 people turned out but this time almost all of them were decent players, minimum), we had the final day off and the Bridge Federation of India was nice enough to rent a tourist van at their cost and we went sightseeing, a bunch of about 15 bridge geeks visiting Goa's beaches with conversations sounding for the most part like "... so I bid 6 spades and dummy turned up with king jack ten small of trumps and...". It rained a lot that day so it wasn't as fun as it could have been; it would start pouring hard just as we arrived at some really scenic beach and we would be stuck in the van. Still, it was a new experience for me, and a pleasant one.

Somethings, of course, don't change. When we went to Bombay, my team mates forgot to bring something or the other and I was the supplier, be it a pen or a laptop or a water bottle or shaving foam or shampoo. I would be the first to wake up and get ready, and occasionally had to goad a guy or two into getting ready on time for the game. My parents, of course, would never believe that I am the most responsible one of the bunch; my Mom always tells Guthi to remind me to take my tablets on time but never once did I actually need reminding. Anyway, things were no different this time. As soon as we entered the train I informed them that I'd brought breakfast and lunch packed for the journey, with my Mom's expertise ensuring that the food would keep till whatever time it was meant to be eaten (her expertise also ensuring the food was delicious, duh!). Accompanying the food was several water bottles, juices, chips and other munchies. When it turned out that two of them had come without having had dinner yet, I told them not to worry as there were a couple of extra food packets for just such a situation. Finally, after we reached the venue and slept and woke up, Guthi realized that he'd forgotten to bring his towel. When I said, "Don't worry, I brought an extra towel as well," he started laughing, "What didn't you bring!!".

The towel was a source of some more amusement as he didn't want to stuff in the dirty towel with the rest of his things in the backpack and instead put it in the very visible side pouch meant for water bottles. So you can imagine what he looked like, lugging a huge hiking-style backpack with the towel sticking out from one side and a water bottle on the other side. All he needed was a book saying "DONT PANIC" in large friendly letters and I'd be expecting him to thumb down passing UFOs.

Ready to blast the opposition? From Left: Rishabh, Vinoth, Myself, Anurag

Also snapped near the St. Francis Cathedral

Nice snap considering I shot it from inside a moving vehicle, on the way to Anjuna Beach

The teams:

U-28: Aniket, Sapan, Myself, Guthi, Sandip, Pravin. 7th man: Prasenjit.

U-26: Anurag, Ayan, Dashu, Rishabh, Vinoth, Karan.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Locking wills with a one-year-old

2008-05-16T21:17:00.002+05:30

My nephew is so cute, he's a regular heart-stealer. He's also a veritable ball of energy and can be quite a handful to manage.

Being still new to this uncle thing, my duties during my visit was limited to watching him for 15-30 minute patches at a time to give some respite to the people doing the real looking-after. And believe me, they needed that time to catch their breath as this little kid needs to be watched every second. I received lessons in parenting that I'd rather not have had till I'm, say, 28 years old, but hey, it was worth it.

I wonder if somebody has written a book titled "How to keep a baby amused" or something like that, because boy, I suck at it. I'm afraid my brain is too limited to think up funny noises/faces/games for a baby in sufficient variety. A typical event would be, I toss him a ball and he deftly tosses it back. Feeling hope that I might engage him for a few minutes with it, I toss it back but this time he comes to me and reaches out with the ball in his hand. But if I try to take it from him, he grips it tighter and grins. Then he jumps around a bit and throws the ball to various corners of the room and chases after it himself. Much more fun than playing with Uncle Prashanth. Hrumph.

I always wondered why parents are so stubborn. Well, now I know. See, taking care of a baby is all about out-stubborning him. Especially when it comes to eating or drinking. Oftentimes you'll have to spend half an hour just to get a few spoonfuls into his mouth. In some cases, though, no amount of stubbornness helps. If you hold the baby when he wants to be let down, he'll squirm and wriggle and twist and kick until you put him back on the floor. And babies are deceptively strong, you better watch where those little feet are kicking!!

I wonder how babies develop a sixth sense for going after the most expensive and breakable objects. I guess they're really good at reading our faces in reaction to stuff they do, and have a precise idea of what they oughtn't do, and then go ahead and do exactly that. When my nephew starts making his way toward me with that wide grin on his face and a mischievous glint in his eye, I know I have 5 seconds to figure out what he's after, and you can be sure it's not the comfort of my arms. The odds are he's after my glasses, or my cell phone, or the TV remote. In fact, if you give him a toy cell phone and a real cell phone, he'll easily choose the real one. Give him a cheaper model and a more expensive model and he'll definitely pick up (and drop :P) the costlier one.

It's nice, though, that I now feel comfortable around the baby, can carry him around, talk to him a bit, etc. as I'm notorious for being clueless around little kids. I still haven't got the hang of the tricks of the trade, though - for example, I spent three minutes unsuccessfully trying to wipe his nose. Then my s-i-l's brother came, pointed toward the ceiling and said "look at the fan!". The baby looked up, and displaying remarkable reaction time, he wiped the kids nose before he knew it. Darn it! Wish I'd thought of that!

As fun as it was, I'm happy enough to leave the parenting to the parents and get back to Chennai. Parenting is hard! Whew!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Nice to see you again, doc

2008-05-02T17:28:00.002+05:30

I mean "doc" in the sense of Doctor, not in the bugs buggy "What's up doc?" style...

So, seriously, have you ever said those words to your doctor? Would you ever?

Come on. However much you may like your doctor, however nice a guy he is, you wouldn't want to see him again. Not as a patient, at any rate. Bumping into him at a wedding or something like that would be alright.

I guess by now you would have figured out why I have been absent from this blog for couple of weeks. Anyway, it has become a ritual now, going to see my doctor, giving him a nice broad smile and telling him my current weight. Like updating him on a cricket score. Don't be surprised if the next time you ask me for the cricket score, I tell you my weight instead.

Regular blogging will commence shortly. And, it looks like regular life will also commence shortly. I expect to get a clean bill of health within a month, and then I can do the whole get-a-job-get-a-life-etc thing.

On other matters, our good friends Vc and Myths are getting married. I will be traveling all the way to bangalore and attending, but it is going to be extremely weird as I've never met either of them before, even though I know them quite well in the virtual world. Just think, I would not know nobody at the wedding except for these two, and I haven't actually met the two of them before, and they would be too busy to talk to me anyway. Jeez. Why am I going? What to do. I promised I would attend. For fraandship's sake.

Congrats, Vee and Myths. May you live happily ever after. Vee, don't worry about Myths' cooking, I will give you some of my Mom's cookbooks. Pssst Myths do the feminist thing, give Vee the books and tell him to start reading.

Cheerio
Prashanth.

The Golden Temple at Sripuram

2008-04-09T23:28:00.002+05:30

Lush gardens, fountains, sculptures, words-of-wisdom-signboards, nice lighting, and, of course, the stunning inner sanctum island of gold, shining bright from top to bottom.

Too bad we went there in the daytime, my Mom told me it was an amazing spectacle at night. In any case, a place worth visiting even if you are not religious. Chalk it up on your calendar if you are ever near Vellore.

Cheers
Prashanth.

Short Story: No Inconsistencies

2008-03-26T21:02:00.005+05:30

I wrote one romantic short story earlier: Whisper on a Zephyr. This is my second attempt at this genre. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Spotting the gang drinking cocktails and laughing a little too loudly at some joke, I rushed to the bar to get a glass for myself and join them. It wouldn't do for me to be the only guy standing there without a glass in his hand, would it?

My boss was there. He's a really friendly guy at these social occasions, even if he can be quite a dinosaur at work.
"Hey Sid, meet your new co-worker. This is Ananya, you've already spoken with her on the phone right? We need the two of you to save us on the Warren project."
I shook hands with the woman whose voice I'd been hearing a little too often the past two days. It was a nice voice, mind you, but she was even more demanding when it came to work than I was. I liked her body language. She was relaxed and friendly without losing an inch of the confident air I'd come to recognize in her voice.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief when she pointed to her handbag.
"You know what I have in here?"
Sigh.
"The file. You want me to be well prepped for tomorrow's meeting. Even if the only people meeting are the two of us. Very altruistic of you!"
I was trying to be funny, not sarcastic. I hoped my smile indicated the former. She laughed, so I relaxed. I hate getting off on the wrong foot with co-workers.

Since she was laughing, I thought I'd push my luck.
"Your glass is almost empty. You should try this, it's really good. Here, try a sip."
She didn't hesitate. She took the glass and sipped.

I waited for the reaction. See, I'm a teetotaller. The glass contained water.
She said nothing. She folded her hands and rocked back on one leg and gave me a not-quite-serious angry schoolteacher look.
"Wait, wait..."
I took both the glasses off her hands to let her fold her hands more easily. I pretended to look over her critically and pronounced, "Better."

She laughed again and I beckoned her towards the bar.
"Let me order for you," I said and gave rapid instructions to the bartender. It included mint, lemon, vodka, ginger and a couple of other things. I prayed it tasted as good as it sounded because I certainly had no idea how it would taste. I was ordering based on third-hand knowledge.

"And let me, for you..."
I grabbed her hand as she started to call the bartender over and pulled it down.
"I don't drink alcohol." I pointed at the glass in my hand. "I have my water."
She raised an eyebrow. "And yet you ordered... ooookaaay lets try this."
And so she tried it. And smiled.

I heaved an internal sigh of relief as she pronounced it as tasting wonderful. Then her eyes narrowed on the person on stage.
"That's funny. I thought I saw her getting that award last year."
"Yeah, she wins it every year. She's one of our top employees. We call her Miss Felicity."
She looked puzzled. "Why, is she that good at spreading cheer?"
"Well, yes, she makes everyone in our department happy simply by virtue of being there and being good looking. But it's supposed to be a joke. She gets felicitated every year, you see. Inevitably."
Then I leaned over conspiratively.
"I heard she went through a break up recently, which means she's single and available."
I leaned back.
"I've got that from every single guy at work over the past week or two. Unbelievable."

"Well, considering how pretty she is, it's pretty believable I would say. Have you asked her out yet?"
I'm not easily surprised, but that one took me by surprise. Espying the mischievous look on her face again, I thought I'd surprise her back. With the truth.
"Nope. I'm quite a coward when it comes to asking women out. Tongue gets mysteriously tied up. Weird considering I have absolutely no difficulty talking in any other situation."
She laughed mellifluously again. "That I can believe. Especially since I am much the same myself."
"You get tongue-tied everytime you want to ask a woman out?"
She punched me on the shoulder. Ow. She's a strong one.

The speech finished and there was a big round of applause. Someone then raised a cheer for the company and there was an even bigger round of applause, including some whistling. Ananya once again surprised me by whistling with the others. She didn't strike me as the rowdy type. Guess I must be bringing out the best in her. Catching me glaring at her, she said "What?"
"Unfair. I can't whistle."
"Well, it's simple, really, you just..."
I held my hand up. "Please, I've had lessons from everyone on Earth possible. I just can't do it. I wasn't blessed with the ability."
I pointed. "See that guy over there? He's too nice to ever whistle at a girl, even too nice to whistle in applause like just now. And yet he's brilliant at whistling. What do you infer from that?"
"Nothing. You can't expect everything in life to be logical and consistent."
"Ah, but I hate inconsistencies. I've always believed that if you see something inconsistent, then you're missing a fact that resolves the inconsistency, and often you can deduce that missing fact directly."
"Okay Einstein, so what are we missing here?"
"He's a genius at music. He plays the flute, and he can whistle the most complicated flute tune."
"How can you hate inconsistencies when you're saying there is no such thing as an inconsistency?"
"Are you expecting an answer for that?"
"Nope. Totally rhetorical. I just need to have the last word, you see."
"I have that need too. Generally I do end up having the last word but I can see I'm going to have a hard time doing that while working with you."
She smiled and clinked our glasses together.

The room was getting really loud, so I suggested we walk to the balcony and get some fresh air. She agreed. We walked up to the door side by side, where she paused. I looked at her and asked, "What?"
"You're supposed to open the door for me."
"Oh, please. You can't have both equality of the sexes and chivalry at the same time. Pick one."
"How rude." She made a very loud and very fake sniff and opened the door. And pointedly held it open for me to walk through. I grinned. Touche. Point taken.
"But seriously, do you really expect men to open car doors and pay for your restaurant bills and etcetera etcetera?"
"No, but opening a door, or holding it open is common courtesy. You would do it for anyone."
"Come on. If I'd reached the door ahead of you, perhaps. But you were closer to the door than I was. Naturally I expect you to open the door."
She waved her hand. "Don't worry, I just did that to see how you'd react. We're going to be working together, I don't want you to agree with me on things just because I'm a woman. A lot of people do that and place blame on me later. I hate that. If they agree with me, no matter how half-heartedly, they should take the responsibility for that."
"So I pass?"

I'm beginning to love that smile of hers.

The evening wound down and we found ourselves at the door saying our goodbyes. "Here, let me help you with that," I said as I helped her put on her jacket. She pulled the file out of her handbag.
"Wait, let me check it once," she said and went to a table to flip through the file once. Then she handed it to me and we left.

I wondered how long it would take her to discover the note I'd left in her jacket pocket. Knowing how smart she was, not long. For, having already established that I'm not chivalrous, why did I help her on with the jacket when she didn't look like she needed any help? There are no inconsistencies, she'd said. Oh, she'll spot it, in less than a day I bet. The note said "Friday night?". That gave her three days. Enough of a buffer. At times like these, I really wished I knew how to whistle as I walked down the street.

I stopped in my tracks. That woman was way too systematic in her work to need to check anything in the file at the last minute. No inconsistencies?

I opened the file. A note slipped on top said, "Friday night is good."

Darn it. She had the last word again.

X-------X--------X

Mallika Badrinath's Website Launched

2008-03-26T18:29:00.002+05:30

I assured my Dad that I have neither the interest nor the ability in creating a website, but he insisted that I do it anyway. So, well, a very simple website is now up: www.mallikahomeproducts.com

The site is still under construction, even functionality wise (forget about aesthetics), but at least it's up. I have some work to do this month, so I will try to improve the site next month.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Speechless

2008-03-18T16:08:00.002+05:30

My Grandmother startled me the other day with an announcement.

Grandma: I've found the perfect girl to be your wife. She's slim, fair and pretty, lives in Chennai, and her family has crores and crores of money.

Knowing my Grandmother, if the family is as rich as she claims, the meanings of the words "slim" "fair" and "pretty" are quite flexible. But I digress.

Me: Grandma! I told you already, I'm just 24 years old, I don't want to get married for another year, minimum!

Grandma: So marry her after a year.

Now, if my Grandmother gets fixated on a topic, the only way to shut her up is to let her talk and pretend to listen.

Me: (sigh) What does she do?

Grandma: She is studying B.Com.

Me: Oh, so she is finishing her studies only this May?

Grandma: Er... not quite.

Me: Grandma! How old is she?

Grandma: Seventeen.

Leaving me speechless and my Mom struggling to control her laughter.

Welcome to my life.

(This is apparently my 200th post. I feel old.)

Cheers
Prashanth.

42

2008-03-12T14:15:00.002+05:30

(If you haven't read Douglas Adams, you may not understand this post)

Recently, my Dad shifted our cell phones to one of those "family" schemes with four lines. That is, we were all getting new phone numbers, and we could talk to each other on those lines for an unlimited amount of time. Great, nah? Now, even when I am not at home, my parents can call me at any time and talk to me for however long they want. Sigh.

So, my Dad told me what my Mom's new phone number would be, adding, "You can see, her number ends with 44..."

At this point I got a deep sense of foreboding.

"... mine is the same, except it ends with 43..."

And I knew what was coming next.

"...and yours is 42."

42. The answer to life, the universe and everything. This has got to be some kind of a sign, a message, from God. I wonder what the message is.

Probably, "SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE."

Cheers
Prashanth.

The Sweet and the Bitter

2008-03-09T22:31:00.002+05:30

I just realized that I've lost some of my taste for sweets and I've come to like eating things like bittergourd (really! imagine!).

For some reason, that scares the hell out of me.

I guess I have a tendency to over-psycho-analyze. Sigh.

An Inconvenient Truth

2008-03-01T16:23:00.006+05:30

I've been meaning to watch the documentary for nearly a year now but I misplaced the DVD and then my health troubles made me forget all about it. But I found it today when cleaning my room and finally watched it, and it is brilliant, it is hard-hitting, and it is all truth. I was particularly pleased by the wonderful combination of science, data, common sense and sentiment he uses so as to touch every type of audience. Not for one minute did I find it boring, and Al Gore touched all the proper nerves.

The message of the documentary is crystal clear. The world is in denial about global warming, and if we don't do something soon, there won't be much of a world to save. I was particularly impressed by the way he countered the major arguments against taking drastic measures against global warming.

Myth. You have to choose between the economy and the environment.
Truth. How good was Hurricane Katrina for the economy?

Myth. Money spent in combating global warming would better serve us in things like fighting terrorism.
Truth. The World Trade Center Memorial site will be underwater in another 50-60 years or so due to rising ocean levels at the current rate of global warming.

Some quotable quotes:

"That is what is at stake. Our ability to live on planet earth. To have a future as a civilization."

"We have everything we need to solve the global warming problem, save, perhaps, the political will."

And a couple of screenshots:

(A graph of atmospheric CO2 levels alongside Temperature in Antarctica over the past 650,000 years. The way scientists built up this data is brilliant. They drilled into the snow and measured the dissolved concentrations of two different isotopes of oxygen. The atmospheric temperature could be calculated accurately from that ration. And, of course, they measured the dissolved CO2 concentration. Note the close correlation. Also note the current CO2 level and take a guess as to where the temperature curve is going to go.)

(A rough illustration of the major ocean current "loop" in the world. Gore gives a chilling example of how the last ice age was triggered by fresh water getting dumped into the North Atlantic, thus upsetting the salinity levels and consequently the global ocean current pattern. Demonstrates how delicate the global climate balance is.)

PLEASE DO WATCH THE DOCUMENTARY IF YOU CAN GET HOLD OF IT. I was greatly impressed by it, not that I need any more convincing regarding the gravity of the global warming situation.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

2008-02-24T23:14:00.002+05:30

I've been tagged by Lady Galadriel. I read the sentence where she says she is tagging only two people and that I am one of them... but before I could feel flattered, she said thats only because all her other friends have already done the tag. Women!

1. Name Three Most Valuable Assets?
- Fearlessness, Quick learning, Frankness

2. If you have the chance, what would you probably say to your beloved one?
- Nothing. I would just hold her hand.

3. If you were to be stranded on a deserted island, who are the 3 blog buddies you would take with you?

- Vc: Never a dull moment when he's around!
Sakshi: Objectivity is such a rare thing.
Myths: Somebody has to look good on that island!!

4. Where is the place that you want to go the most?
- Tough call between Lothlorien and Elvandar (all the places in the real world are so boring!)

5. If you can have 1 dream to come true, what would it be?
- I want to play Bridge for India at the Bermuda Bowl someday (and play well of course!). That way I help promote bridge, help people by promoting bridge (which is an intellectual game), help our country make a global statement, and feel happy in the process!

6. Till now, what is the moment that you regret the most?
- The moment I decided I didn't want to go alone to the ice rink. I am used to roller blading alone, but something about the US made me feel immensely lonely heading out to the rink by myself. Too bad. I really enjoy ice skating.

7. What are you afraid to lose the most?
- My health. Having fallen seriously ill last year (and more than once at that), I know how it feels to be in pain, in bed, totally helpless to do all the things you wanted to do with your life.

8. What would you do if you found a briefcase full of money?
- Turn it in if I thought it stood a chance of being returned to its rightful owner. Else, donate it to an education charity.

9. If you meet someone that you love, would you confess to him/her?
- No.

10. List out 3 good points of the person who tagged you…
- Galadriel. Don't know her too well yet, but I like that she's sensitive, compassionate and honest.

11. What are the requirements that you wish from your other half?
- No major expectations. A good level of education, awareness and ability to express oneself are enough.

12. Which type of person do you hate the most?
- OHHH those irritating movie / small screen directors who can't tell the actors how to pretend to play the guitar / violin when any idiot can see that the music doesn't match what they are doing with the darned instrument. For heaven's sake, can you at least not play on the bass string when the music is clearly in the higher octave? Huh? Huh? (I've been watching too many telugu movies)

13. What is your ambition?
- Many things. To write a book. To bring free, quality education to the masses. To help my Dad realize his dream of making our brand a big success. To play bridge at the international level. Many, many things.

14. What is the thing that will make you think someone is a bad person?
- Lewd behavior from men, for sure. Such people give all men a bad name.

15. What is the one thing you would change about yourself?
- I wish I could pick myself up from the downs in life quickly. I have a tendency to get bogged down when the fates are not on my side.

16. Are you a shopaholic or no?
- Hell, no. I am seriously shopaphobic.

17. What is your stress buster?
- Bridge, always. Writing poetry, if I can get into the mood.

18. Do you think God actually exists?
- I can't commit to either side, mostly because I seriously think it doesn't matter. You're not going to plan any aspect of your life around whether God exists or not. I like going to temples even if I don't believe in God. I like to pray for others and myself even if I don't quite believe they will be answered. Belief in God, one way or the other, probably won't change my life one bit.

19. If you could change one thing about this world what would it be?
- Make good quality education at all levels accessible to the common man at little or no cost. It will heal the world.

*replaced question*
20. If you can have either the ability to forgive all, or the gift of being forgiven by all, but not both, which would you choose?
- The former. I wish to feel accountable for my actions, and I want to be able to completely let go of some things about people I like or love that bother me. I'm getting there :). Slowly.

Rules: Remove 1 question from the tag and add your personal question. Make it a total of 20 questions, then tag people in your list, list them out at the end of this post. Notify them that he/she has been tagged.

In keeping with my blog tradition, I'm not tagging anyone. Cheers!

Prashanth.

Lucky numbers and Horrorscopes

2008-02-21T15:54:00.002+05:30

Yesterday I overheard a rather strange conversation between my Mom and the cook. It went something like:

Mom: The registration number for the new car is a nine, I am so happy.
Cook: That's great! Nine is a wonderful number! I was lucky enough to get a bank account number that was a nine!

Now, I knew that the license plate for the new car read "7434" so I was wondering where the nine came from. And how a bank account number could be a single digit number for that matter. It took me a moment to figure out that they were talking numerology. Here's how it works:

7+4+3+4 = 18
1+8 = 9

Thus, our car is a "nine", which apparently is a good thing. Don't ask me why.

Most of time, my brother and I manage to steer clear of any conversations that have anything to do with such superstition. But my brother found himself outmaneuvered at the time of naming his son. Numerology applies to names as well... I wonder, do they count 'A' as '1' and 'Z' as '26' and add them up? Never mind. Essentially my brother was told to add an extra 'A' and an 'H' to his son's name. Fortunately, "Thaarak" is phonetically more or less correct so it won't look too ridiculous on his notebooks. That, of course, didn't prevent the rejoinder from my brother, "You didn't check the numerology when naming me or Prashanth, and see, we turned out alright!" Did I hear a "Not really" from my Dad under his breath? Must have imagined it ;)

The most important issue where such beliefs ought to to loggerheads of course is that of marriage. But most wisely, my brother and I know to keep our mouths shut on that. The word "Horoscope" normally makes you think of your daily zodiac horoscope, but for people of marriageable age it can only refer to what I've come to think of as the "Horrorscope", that one they match for the bride and the groom to check if they are "compatible". Never mind that I think it is ridiculous to believe that a guy with a particular "dosha" has very particular requirements of the bride's horrorscope else the girl's new mother-in-law will die (my cousin was unfortunate enough to have that dosha). And similar stuff. See, I have been assured that my horrorscope won't be pulled out for another year (due to astrological reasons) so why should I complain!

Cheers
Prashanth.

Of future neighbours

2008-02-13T00:27:00.000+05:30

I'm told it started some months ago, when I was in the US. Workers swing sledgehammers, breaking down the house next door that's been there forever, the house into which I've hit the cricket ball a zillion times and got scolded for it, and had to negotiate the hay and the cows (don't ask me why they kept cows in their backyard) to find the ball. My parents had been living in months of dust and noise when I landed. After living in the relatively rustic and peaceful environs of a small university town, it was hard enough to not wince whenever someone nearby on the road honked the horn, or to avoid the feeling of disorientation with all the bright city lights.

So, I had to endure a few weeks of sledge-hammering in the daytime. This was followed by a particularly irritating phase when they used jackhammers, starting at dawn and going on virtually all day. It felt like somebody was inside our heads knocking holes in our skulls... then finally they relinquished. But oh no, we weren't getting off that easy. They needed to get some heavy trucks in to move all the rubble... and they were only allowed to do it at night. And after a few nights of THAT, they brought in the machinery to dig up the foundation.

If you walk into my house and find we are all tired, sleepy and irate, you know where to place the blame. The funny part about all this is that they are constructing luxury apartments, and a future tenant has already reserved one: Indra Nooyi, Pepsico India. Apparently she is shelling out cash to the tune of 6.5 crores. I know, this is all rumour, but it is fairly reliable. Anyway, it was my cousin who ended up having the last word: "I heard she has two daughters, and they are quite pretty... maybe I should start visiting you more often?"

Is he planning to hit the cricket ball though one of their bedroom windows? Naaaah. He's not that good a batsman :)

Cheers
Prashanth.

It's all in the mind

2008-01-28T22:39:00.000+05:30

I'm not an outdoors guy. I don't play a lot of sports; mostly its the indoors kind of games I enjoy. My experience in competitive sports is limited to indoor games at the school or college level. Thus, I was totally unprepared for the experiences of high-level sporting competition when I headed to Bombay for the Junior Open Bridge Nationals this week. I mean, although as spectators and fans of various sports like cricket and tennis, we are familiar with the adrenaline level associated with high stakes sports, it is a totally different matter to be a participant.

The tournament turnout was disappointingly low; there were only 36 players from around the country. What a pity it is, for a national bridge tournament normally attracts several hundred (perhaps even a thousand) players, but for a junior tournament the participation is pathetic. Have the youth of today no interest in intellectual games? Well, chess is popular in our country. So there is something else wrong. One day I will do my part to fix this.

The first two events of play, the individual event and the pairs event, turned into a joke when it was realized that only half the field were decent players and the rest were novices, especially a contingent of six 10-12 year old kids from Salem who performed quite well considering their age and experience but did not belong in a national level tournament. It is not fun playing with or against such amateurs, and the scores were all over the place, screwing up the results as well. We thanked God when those events got over and it was time to start the main head-to-head Team of Four event.

The number of 36 players came down to just seven teams of 4-6 members. Of these, it was clear to all that the level of the top three teams was way ahead of the rest. My team consisted of five of my good friends, current and past students of IIT Madras. We lost by small margins to the top two teams (lets call them Aniket's team and the West Bengal team) in the leagues, but thrashed all other teams comfortably to reach the super leagues.

At this point we faced a moment of self-doubt. Are these two teams really more skilled than us? We've worked so hard, and still we are not good enough? But it was just for a moment. With admirable spirit my team (yes, my team - I acted as and felt like a team captain) came back strongly to win all the matches in the super-leagues. Then we sealed it by soundly beating the West Bengal team in the semifinals. I learned something at that time. We beat that team by handsome margins twice not because we were much better than them, but because we put pressure on them. They were human, you see. Once we beat them in the super league with solid play and took the lead in the semis, they got desperate and tried all sorts of stunts to win, and only succeeded in digging their own graves. We beat them in the mind, not in the sense that bridge is an intellectual game, but in the sense that our victory was as much through psychology as it was through skill.

Then came the finals. I wish my partner Guthi and I had gone straight in after the lunch break, but we sat out and let the other two pairs play the first of the three sessions. By the rules we were not allowed to stay and watch, so we had to sit outside and bite our nails, and we gradually grew tensed. When we went in to the second session a few points behind, we made mistakes out of sheer nervousness and lack of concentration that turned our faces red at the stupidity of it. And then, tiredness from four consecutive days of play also took its toll, and there were further mistakes through "autopilot" play without thinking things through. We lost, but in spite of so many errors the margin was not very large. Truly, we had won over the other team in the mind, and lost in the finals too in the mind. Aniket's team well deserved to win, for they proved themselves to be more professional players than us.

There will be a selection process in the summer for the Indian Junior Bridge team to be sent to the World Mind Games at Shanghai late this year, and I sincerely hope they will select a couple of players at least from my team (including me of course :P). Our team: Prashanth, Guthi, Ashok, Prajwal, Gaurav, Angad. The winners: Aniket, Anurag, Ayan, Soumya, Pravin.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

P.S. The long break was because of ill health, mild depression, and later, preparation for the tourney. But now I am supercharged and happy and it is good to be back!

Location: Chennai

2007-12-18T22:41:00.000+05:30

Need to change it on all my profiles, and get used to the time zone :)

Be back with a short story in a couple of days!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Flying back....

2007-12-07T11:45:00.001+05:30

... to chennai next weekend. Goodbye US, will not be seeing much of you for... well, a long time. I wish I were returning to an IIT hostel instead of home so that I can pull an all-nighter on bridge or computer games. Yeah, normal people would simply get drunk, but I don't drink, hence the weirdness of the unwinding wish.

Of course, I still need to survive the remaining one week, which is more or less going to be hell.

Wish me luck.
Prashanth.

P.S. All those in the US I am in touch with by phone, you have only one week to call me. So call. Now!

Try These....

2007-11-29T21:21:00.000+05:30

Movie: American Gangster
I watched a few of the new movies this month but they aren't very good, except for this one. Denzel Washington is brilliant in it. When he says "My man" you feel like smiling, and at the same time chilled to the bone.

Television: Chuck (NBC)
This is a must-watch serial for geeks. Chuck is a lovable, innocent, geeky bloke who fixes computers at Nerd Herd for a living. One day he receives an email from his old college pal and when he opens it, there is a short puzzle in the form of a scene from one of those old text-based computer games (which is very good protection, if you think about it :) ). And when Chuck solves it, he is sent into trance by a flood of images... hours later, the images stop, he faints, the computer crashes... and when he wakes up, he has all the secrets of the CIA and the NSA in his head. The two agencies want to kill him... except, the facility from which those secrets were stolen was one of a kind, and was destroyed. So they have no choice but to use him, and Chuck is forced to do spy-type stuff. Cool idea na? There are some really hilarious parts, like when Chuck is forced to prove his identity by speaking in Klingon. Five stars from me any day.

Books: Malazan Book of the Fallen series by Steven Erikson
I've read so many fantasy series that I can't keep count, but the only really good author that I feel like recommending (other than my perennial favourite Raymond Feist) is this guy. The series is not for the faint of heart, though. You get pulled into a rich, complex fantasy realm and an epic struggle, and Erikson doesn't try to explain things, you understand more about the land as you read more. Which is just the way I like it.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Atra du evarinya ono varda

2007-11-25T03:44:00.000+05:30

(Means, "May the stars watch over you")

I just finished reading Christopher Paolini's books Eragon and Eldest, and I was pleasantly surprised by their quality. For those of you who don't know what I am talking about, Eragon is a fantasy fiction book that Paolini started writing when he was 15 and got published when he was 19, and became a bestseller. It was made into a movie earlier this year, which unfortunately was not very good. I watched the movie the week it was released, and combined with that and the fact that Eragon was in the Children's section at the public library here, I was not very enthusiastic about reading it.

But I was wrong. The series is quite interesting thus far, with few of the flaws you would expect from a young writer. The characters are well fleshed out, the hero is very human and makes mistakes, and Paolini has created a whole new language complete with grammar and syntax. This language is spoken by the race of the elves, and one cannot lie when speaking it; it is also the language used for structuring and casting magical spells. However, the story is a little predictable and there are a few logical inconsistencies; still, they do not detract much from the enjoyment of the tale. I highly recommend the book for fantasy fans in the teen and young adult age group, if you are older of course I have better fantasy writers to suggest :)

Paolini is a few months younger than me and the third book of the series is scheduled to be released in Sep 2008.

Eka fricai un Shur'tugal (I am a friend and a Dragonrider)
Prashanth.

Only two things in life are certain...

2007-11-20T12:23:00.000+05:30

Death and Taxes.

I just watched the movie Meet Joe Black on TV. I've seen it before, but by some weird coincidence I've only managed to catch it at or after the scene where "Joe" is introduced to the family. This time, though, I watched the movie from the beginning... and was quite amused by some subtle statements that I didn't quite get the significance of earlier.

For example, there is a scene where Joe tells Susan Parish, "Be sorry for nothing."

In general, good advice... but when Death tells you to be sorry for nothing, it takes on a whole new meaning. Which one of us can truly say, "I have done nothing in my life to be sorry for"? It takes a lot of wisdom gleaned from experience before one can claim to be sure that one is doing the right thing... and sometimes even that is not enough. Good intentions are seldom enough for you to be able to say later, "I have no regrets." Life is just too full of uncertainties.

After all, the only two things that are certain are Death and Taxes.

I have noticed that of late, I have been contradicting myself on my blog, with my mixed emotions, hopes and moods being transparent to all. I don't mind it. I meant to share those thoughts. Things have been tough, and I have only recently come to understand that there are no quick fixes in life. Everything takes time. And effort. But with those experiences come maturity, and stability. Wisdom, it appears, is forged like steel on hot coals.

Be sorry for nothing, he said. A worthy thing to aspire to. I will do my best, as always, to behave in such a way that at the end of the day I can say I have nothing to be sorry for. Who knows, one day I might achieve it.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

My Favourite Dark Elf

2007-10-29T09:22:00.000+05:30

Let me tell you about one of my favourite heroes (in fiction, that is).

Drizzt Do'Urden is a character created by the author Robert A. Salvatore. Drizzt is a Dark Elf - people whose society had a code very different from ours. They worshiped a Goddess who loved schemes, deceit and chaos. Their city was composed of several noble Houses, who held power according to their standing in the eyes of their Goddess. There were several routes to power, both for an individual and for a House; the trick is to obliterate those above you without anyone being able to pin it on you. If you were in a battle and you managed to stab your elder brother without anyone noticing, and blame it on the enemies, you earned his position by right even if people suspected what you did. The more complicated the plan to make a House lose face, or lose people, or other assets, without it being traceable to you, the more you and your House were appreciated for it. It was a society whose rules and morals we cannot identify with. The ruthlessness of this race gained them almost universal hatred from the "surface races", for these people lived in underground cities. Drizzt was born into such a society.

It is said that a child inculcates the morals that society imparts to him, and that people are not born with a sense of right and wrong. But that did not apply to Drizzt. Right from when he was a child, he knew something was badly wrong with everything. His soul could not abide the viciousness he was surrounded by. So he left. He abandoned everything he knew and left for the surface world, where he would constantly be judged and feared by the colour of his skin that identified his race. But Drizzt was an innately good person and always helped people, and that won him some friends. A precious few friends, but that was enough. The sense of belonging comes from being in a place where you have friends.

It is hard for me to explain the full relevance of the story here, but I hoped you liked it anyway, and just keep that last line in mind.

Now, what if I told you that I still do not feel like I belong here, I have no people in this town that I can consider as a close friend in spite of being here for two years? Is it right to abandon everything and leave just because you don't have friends? Shouldn't one have a sense of professional duty and courtesy, finish what you started, don't leave when there are people depending on you? I've tried to be happy here but I know now that I failed. There were other reasons for me being unhappy before, so I came back here after my illness to give it another try. But it still hasn't worked. Is it okay to be selfish, and leave?

Does every man truly have the right to the pursuit of happiness? What about duty and responsibility? You can't have rights without responsibilities, said my Civics teacher. How do you resolve the conflict then?

A very confused
Prashanth.

Oranges and Hot Chocolate

2007-10-21T22:28:00.000+05:30

Earlier this week, I was at work and asked one of my friends if she had a snack (I only keep boring trail mix bars in my desk), and she handed me an orange. I thanked her but stood and stared at the orange. "What?" she asked. "I've never peeled an orange before. I don't know how," I replied.

I have a car and my friends at the lab don't, and I've been awfully nice about lending chauffeur services so I didn't get any snide remarks about spoilt brats at that time, and she simply loosened the skin and peeled a bit of the orange to start me off and handed the orange back to me. But I couldn't help thinking, "Oh My God. My Mom or Grandmom always peeled my oranges. That's how spoilt I am."

I guess there is so much we take for granted about living with family that the realities of living alone hit us slowly, one by one by one, and keep going. Whether it is about handling complex financial issues or just peeling an orange, life is a constant learning experience.

------

Are you one of those people who say, "Hot chocolate is for wusses. Have coffee in the daytime, alcohol in the nighttime. And make that black coffee and hard alcohol."

If you are, then you've never had hot chocolate at the Original Waffle Shop. I wish I had a photograph to show you, but I'll have to make do with words. A decent-sized cup of rich hot chocolate, topped by a spiral tower of whipped cream nearly as high as the cup itself, sprinkled with chocolate chips. Sinful! The whipped cream melts into the hot chocolate if you wait and watch. Or you can preempt it and take spoonfuls of cream and hot chocolate to start your meal. By the time I finished the cup I was so full I only managed to have half my actual meal, and took the rest to go!

And oh yes, they gave me a slice of orange with my meal. Fortunately I didn't have to peel it.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Being in control

2007-10-16T07:23:00.000+05:30

Do you do a periodic mental "check" of how you are doing in life?

I realized something this week. I feel more at ease with my situation because I am in control of my life now. Aside from the usual insecurities about research work, publication and graduation that all PhD students have, I feel confident that things are going the right way. A huge contrast from how things have been this past year.

Even if the circumstances are adverse, I do not feel worried as long as I am in control and have no external pressures. It follows then that I should take decisions in life in such a way as to keep my independence. That line of thought leads down some difficult roads, which I fortunately do not have to worry about for a while.

This would normally be the point where I would say "In other news, ..." but there really is no other news. I needed some stability, now I got it. So it is time to make good things happen.

Cheers
Prashanth.

Book Tag, Again

2007-10-14T20:05:00.000+05:30

I was tagged by Jyo ages ago, and finally found the time to do it!

Total Number of Books Owned:
If they are few enough that you can count them, you are not a book lover!!

Last Book Bought:
Legend by David Gemmell
If you are a fan of battles like the one at Helm's Deep in Lord of the Rings, you'll love this book.

Last Book Read:
Feast of Souls by C.S. Friedman
A decent fantasy book, but not good enough for me to actually recommend to someone. Perhaps I have been spoiled by Steven Erikson: if an important character dies, it must be in an utmost heroic, ironic, epic fashion!

Five Books that mean a lot to you:
1. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand
I like the concept of Objectivism. I'm not one of those Rand-fanatics though; I don't go around spreading objectivist philosophy; I simply find the concept interesting enough that it made me think. The fact that this book made me have philosophical discussions in my head puts it in this list.

2. Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
Most writers dream of being able to make their readers put themselves in the shoes of the character, to look through their eyes, to think and feel like them. Salinger achieves this, in a way that I am yet to see duplicated. On top of that, this book will make you feel ashamed of the little hypocrite in you, in all of us. Rare. A gem of a book.

3. Foundation by Isaac Asimov
The classic science fiction novel! When you say SciFi what pictures does the word conjure up in your head? Non-Scifi people think about Star Trek and such. But the real Scifi fan thinks about Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein... its not spaceships and lasers and robots that make the Scifi story, it is the setting, the possibilities in writing stories when you are not fettered by the sad truths and realities in the world.

4. Magician by Raymond Feist
What I just said for Scifi goes for Fantasy too. And the fantasy book that did it for me was not Lord of the Rings but Magician. This is the book that started it all for me, got me into the fantasy genre, made me want to write fantasy stories, everything. A great read, a balanced book, a great storyteller.

Well, four will have to do for now.

Cheers
Prashanth.

I wouldn't, either

2007-09-24T22:19:00.001+05:30

Do you remember that scene in the movie American Beauty in which Kevin Spacey is at his self-deprecating best?

Guy: Hi, I'm X.
Spacey: Actually, we already met - at that Christmas party last year.
Guy: Ohhhh...
Spacey: Don't worry, I wouldn't remember me either.

Well, something similar happened to me today. The person was Girl In Stat Class, GISC for short.

Me: Actually, I'm headed to X Building in the west campus. I'm in the Industrial Engineering Department, you know.
GISC: Oh, then you must me knowing C...
Me: (sigh) Yes, you already told me, she's your neighbour.

I nearly wanted to add, "Yeah, I wouldn't remember talking to me either."

But it's even more sad because I'm quite sure I've done the same thing to other people on many an occasion. I just have a terrible memory for people-related things. In fact, I'm a terrible people-person, period. But that does not excuse such behaviour, now that I know how it feels to be at the receiving end.

Moral of the story? Pay attention to people. Be a better listener.

Hopefully I have learnt my lesson!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Robert Jordan Dies

2007-09-20T02:20:00.001+05:30

Robert Jordan, author of the Wheel of Time fantasy series, is dead. He had been suffering from amyloidosis, a blood disorder, for a while and us fans have been aware of it. Although he came under some flak for stretching the series t__h__i__n, I for one have enjoyed the Wheel of Time series and even re-read the entire thing this summer in anticipation of the last book (which, sadly, will never come now).

Here is the link to the NY Times article.

I am a big enough fan of Jordan that I mention him on my blog often, and not just on fantasy reviews, but even on other random ones.

Peace favour your sword.

Prashanth.

Stepping out....

2007-09-07T05:17:00.001+05:30

When I landed back in the US last month, I thought it would take a few days for me to get my affairs in order.

A few days passed and as I got a better idea of what I was facing, I began to think it would probably take a few weeks.

Now it has been almost three weeks and I have come to realize the full extent of what I can only describe as self-sabotage, committed in a period when I was depressed and distracted, and simply not myself. And I know it is not a matter of days or weeks but months before I can fix everything that is broken. It takes far longer to rebuild than it takes to ruin something.

I am going to throw myself into work for a few months, and will not be much hanging around any blogs during that time. I do hope to get a short story or two in. Please keep in touch by email / chat / phone in the meantime!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

One liners

2007-08-23T20:30:00.000+05:30

“Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” - William Shakespeare, from Twelfth Night.

"Some are born humble, some achieve humility, and some have humility thrust upon them." - Prashanth Sriram, who always gains his wisdom too late.

Vignettes

2007-08-21T19:40:00.000+05:30

Life at Penn State has its ups and downs but is quite colourful.

I took a cab back to my apartment from the airport, and the driver struck up a conversation with me. He said he was considering applying for a degree in EE at Penn State, then went off tangentially on how Professors tend to mentally classify their students as smart, not-so-smart, and dumb (the phrase "good, bad, ugly" came to mind!). He said that he felt work ethic was more important than innate intelligence. I told him about IITians getting flak from the rest of India, with people saying that there is nothing special about IITians, and just because they got good scores in JEE it doesn't mean they are super-intelligent humans and etc. Of course, they conveniently forget that we IITians never claimed to be super-intelligent and being an IITian is as much about hard work as it is about intelligence.

As soon as I stepped into my apartment it became crystal clear to me why it is an excellent decision to move out. It was the most disgusting, dirtiest place I have ever set foot on. Apparently my roommates had to rush to other states on internships soon after their exams and in their hurry they didn't even bother to clean the dishes - or even transfer them from the living room table to the sink. Moving is hard work and shopping for a new apartment is vexing work but I couldn't be happier doing it. My new apartment isn't perfect - the kitchen in particular is lacking a few amenities I am used to taking for granted, like a gas stove rather than an electric stove - but it is clean and spacious and has free cable TV :)

Dropping by at my friend's apartment carrying edible goodies from home, I was witness to a poor american girl backing up her car and going smack into a parked car behind her in the parking lot. There was a sizeable dent in the other car and she broke the taillights on hers. She seemed like a young undergrad not used to such stuff and seemed extremely nervous about what she had done, and appeared to have no idea what to do about the situation. So I stopped for a minute and told her what needed to be done - having been at both ends of similar incidents in the past myself. One time, a driver skid on the icy driveway and smashed into the rear of my car. Another time, I was backing out of Starbucks and grazed the rear bumper of a brand new BMW. It was only a paint smudge, so I settled things with him and we kept my insurance company out of it, lest my premium go up - but that was the first time I had caused any kind of damage to any other vehicle, and was quite nervous myself. Full sympathies to that girl!

A cup of coffee at Starbucks costs three times as much as coffee at any other place, but it also tastes three times better so I often choose the slightly longer walk and the extra two dollars to get that perfect cup of morning coffee. Coffee in hand, I was passed by a Pakistani woman and her little girl, who stopped at the pedestrian crossing and pressed the button. Seeing no car in sight, I started crossing the road without waiting for the walk signal, and the woman with her daughter started crossing with me, and said "Thanks!". I asked her why she was thanking me, and she said it was easier to break a traffic rule when you are doing it with some other person :)

What can I say, it feels good to be back in State College.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Snap out of it

2007-08-15T23:13:00.000+05:30

Note to Self:

This has been a nice vacation, getting away from grad life and reconnecting with Chennai and everything that goes with it. Yes, IIT Madras junta are superb company and you always have fun with them. Yes, you will never get that atmosphere at Penn State - that easy banter, talking about familiar things, be it the introduction of a Cafe Coffee Day in the campus or how you made that slam hand at Bridge by a "squeeze" play on your left hand opponent. It is also nice to eat your Mom's cooking everyday and not have to worry about taking that stain out of your t-shirt or how much chilli powder to put in your dish. It is fun to go to the Landmark quiz with old friends and to boss around your younger cousins.

SNAP OUT OF IT.

In twenty four hours you will be on a flight back to the USA and you will have to worry not only about your courses and your research, but about moving to a new apartment, money matters, insurance, cooking, cleaning, laundry, shopping and about a million more things. Your friends there may not quite be on your wavelength but they care about you nonetheless. You have enjoyed your few months of happy nostalgia, now face it - you have left that life behind. Better get adjusted to your new one.

(Gives self a mental shake and a light slap)

Butterfingers

2007-08-10T21:53:00.000+05:30

As a consequence of having some free time on my hands, I have been watching cricket - India's tour of Bangladesh and now England. It is a little strange because I stopped following cricket once I finished high school, barring a brief period during the 2003 World Cup. Some of my old enthusiasm for the game has returned, though no doubt it will disappear again once I return to the US, and it has also brought back memories of a time when I did play a bit of gully cricket myself.

Like all normal people, I used to play a bit of cricket in backyards and gullies. Even though I was never good at it, us Indians are so cricket crazy that you cannot avoid living without playing cricket. And so, by the time I neared high school, we were playing cricket in community sports grounds. I quickly developed a reputation for needing a by-runner within a few minutes at the crease - I'm not the athletic type and get tired quickly! And an even bigger reputation for having butterfingers. I was decent at catching flat balls... but whenever the batsman skied the ball, it would pop out of my hands when I tried to catch it. After that there is a 50% probability of me getting hands on it again before it hits the ground... and if I do, there is a 50% chance of it popping out again, and so on! Go ahead, picture it and laugh. I don't mind :)

In my whole five years of college in Chennai I only played cricket once, choosing instead the simpler sports of volleyball and roller skating. But that one time I played, I executed a couple of stylish cover drives that earned me a comment from the bowler, "Looks like we have a regular Rahul Dravid on our hands." Was that genuine or sarcastic, you ask? Well, you see, we were short of space as well as players, so we were playing with only an on-side. Five feet from the stumps on the off-side was the wall that collected all my cover drives!

These days of course, the only "sport" that occupies me is bridge... and perhaps a bit of ice skating. I will be flying back this week so my blog may be a little quiet for a while. But I promise to use my flying time to think of a new short story for the blog!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Moment of the week

2007-08-03T22:03:00.000+05:30

This week my cousin came over from Salem. Now, there are a few standard things we do whenever he comes. One is to go watch the latest English movie, as only the Tamil dubbed versions generally get released there (I once unwittingly went to watch Spiderman when I was there and found out after the movie started that it was in Tamil!). Another is food - you can't get a decent pan pizza or an authentic chaat anywhere in that town! So, this time, he said, "Let's go to that place and have a chaat."

Now, that place is one of the few places in Chennai that you can have a real chaat, and is conveniently situated close to my house. Countless are the times I've been there with my brother or a cousin or a friend and ordered a Dahi Puri for myself and whatever for the other person. Yes, I always order Dahi Puri there. It's just tooooo gooood.

With an awfully familiar feeling we drive there and I order two Dahi Puris, handing over three ten-rupee notes. This time, though, the cashier peers at me and says, "Sixty one rupees saab."

With a slightly stunned expression I ferret some more cash out of my wallet and say that the price was fifteen rupees when I used to come here, four years ago. The cashier informs me gently, "Fifteen rupees for a Dahi Puri? That would be eight years ago, saab."

He was right, of course. And to think, I regard some people as old-fashioned, and even tell some people to their faces that they are old-fashioned. Here I am, twenty four years old and as ancient-minded as any of them. Gah! Truly, that was my WTF moment of the week.

Please, make me feel better. Tell me your WTF moment of the week.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

A toast, to new beginnings!

2007-07-28T21:58:00.000+05:30

It is said that a traumatic experience can change a person. I can attest to that now. In outlook, in attitude, in philosophy, in temperament, I am a different man from who I was last year.

That is one of the reasons I am looking forward to returning to the US, with this long hiatus drawing to a close. But even the other reasons are not that I will be returning to something familiar, but to something different. I am moving to a new apartment (No roommates! Finally, I will have a clean kitchen and a clutter-free home!), and there are some new directions to work on for my research. I guess there is something about new beginnings that lifts one's spirit.

Meanwhile, in Chennai, my home is being wiped clean of every trace of me. My old clothes have been donated, my footwear thrown away, my books put into cartons and stored in remote locations, my photograph on the wall of the living room pulled down; anything that yelled "Prashanth" has either been hidden away or thrown away. I don't even have my own room anymore. No, my parents aren't planning on selling me or anything, its just that I've spent five years in a hostel and two years in the US, and old things need to make space for new. It is all mildly depressing, but home is made of people, not things. So I'm fine with it. It reinforces the feeling that I am starting with a clean slate.

It has been a time of new beginnings for many of friends, too. Some are graduating with doctorates. Some are joining grad programs. Some are changing jobs. Some are getting married. And they are all excited about it.

Go and fetch your glass, for I want to raise a toast. To fresh starts. To new beginnings!

Cheers!
Prashanth.

Reading list

2007-07-27T10:58:00.000+05:30

I was chatting with a blogger friend about books and realized I'd better make a list of books I've been meaning to read. I thought I'd put up the list here so that passers-by (that means you!) can make suggestions for me to add to the list.

Edited in: Found one social networking site that isn't socially destructive - Shelfari, a place to share your book discoveries with your friends. Every book is automatically a community through a central database, putting together user reviews, discussion forums, etc.

Regular Fiction:

Shantaram by Gregory Roberts

The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie

The Moor's Last Sigh by Salman Rushdie

The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

The Bridge Across Forever by Richard Bach

Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

Masala Fiction:

The Quest by Wilbur Smith

The Alexandria Link by Steve Berry

The Inscrutable Americans by Anurag Mathur (shifted here on Kaushik's insistence!)

Fantasy and Science Fiction:

Into a Dark Realm by Raymond Feist (Second Darkwar Novel)

Midnight Tides by Steven Erikson (Fifth book in Malazan Book of the Fallen - one of the best fantasy series ever written)

Starship Troopers by Robert Heinlein

Prophecy: Child of the Earth by Elizabeth Haydon (Sequel to Rhapsody)

Canticle by R. A. Salvatore (Beginning the Cleric Quintet)

Keeper Martin's Tale by Robert Stepanek (Beginning the Ruinmist Chronicles)

Renegade's Magic by Robin Hobb (Concluding the Soldier Son Trilogy)

Non-Fiction:

Bookless in Baghdad by Shashi Tharoor

The Argumentative Indian by Amartya Sen (Currently reading... super so far!)

A Short Story: Can you bring me some colours?

2007-07-22T14:53:00.000+05:30

(Inspired by J.)

I pulled the curtains open. I felt a desperate need to get some sunlight, some cheer into the room. But the bleak landscape outside brought no comfort. I had to call somebody, to try and shake off the pall settling on my mood. But who?

There was one. He always knew what to do in these situations. "Old friends are like wine," he had said, "The longer you know them, the less you see of them, but the more you cherish those occasions. Those meetings gain in maturity, in sparkle, in fulfillment, making up for what they lack in frequency." I hated him for that philosophical bent of his, hated him for saying things I did not want to hear, hated him for being right. But he had never let me down. No, he was far, far, more generous than I could ever be.

And I hated him for that too.

I called him.

"Hey. It's me."

"Hi! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I have a task for you."

A chuckle. "At your service, m'lady. What can I do for you today?"

"Of late, my world has become... gray. Can you bring me some colours?"

"Ah, but colours do not behave that way. Perhaps if you go to them, they may agree to come back with you. But nobody can simply bring them to you."

"What should I do?"

"I'll pick you up. Half an hour."

--------

He was as I always remembered him. It was easy to talk to him. Most of the time. He was a good listener. It was when he went into one of his speeches or self-designed proverbs that he became unbearable. But he didn't do that as we drove into the outskirts of the city. He always had a sense of timing. Now was not the time. I would have jumped out of the car while it was moving and hitch-hiked back if he did. He probably knew that, too.

We pulled up at a farm just outside the city. The workers there greeted him cheerily and he waved back. "I come here now and then. It belongs to a distant uncle," he explained.

We walked into a beautiful meadow. Cows grazed placidly, and regarded us with big, friendly eyes. The grass was soft and damp under our feet; there were copses of trees some distance away; and the air was clean and fresh and redolent with the smell of dew. Some children were playing tag nearby. He plucked at my sleeve and we headed in their direction.

I looked at him incredulously. Surely he didn't expect me to play! But he had that mischievous glint in his eyes that said that was exactly what he had in mind. And there we played with those kids, running around bare-footed, weaving to avoid a catcher, laughing, short of breath. It was fabulous. I felt free for the first time in a long, long, time.

We sat down in exhaustion some time later. My chest was heaving with the exertion but I was smiling. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a little cloth bag. It was embroidered in beautiful patterns, and by a slight reluctance in the way he pulled it out, I gathered that it was a personal treasure of sorts. He pulled a long blade of grass out of the ground and gave it to me with the bag. "Look at it. Feel it. Your first colour, the green of light-hearted joy. Then put it inside the bag."

I did all that. We walked back to the car. As we drove back, he said, "I'll pick you up tomorrow, same time in the afternoon. We'll go and fetch your second colour." I smiled at him. He smiled back, a little too softly. I felt mildly ashamed. But I got out and went back to my apartment without a word.

--------

This time, we drove up to a little quay by the sea and rented a small boat. But it had a quiet and powerful motor, and very soon I was laughing into the wind and splashing the water as we streaked through it. The sky was cloudless, the most wonderful shade of azure blue. The water was a darker but no less enjoyable shade of blue, and it glistened with golden sunlight towards the horizon.

He stopped the motor after a while, and we floated there - in every sense of the word - with only the sky and the water and the sun to keep us company. A few birds flew over our heads, but they only added to the deep sense of blissful serenity that was creeping into my soul. The whole time, he had said nothing. We just sat there, leaning against each other, soaking up the surroundings. When the sun started getting too low, he pulled out a camera, one of those that print out the picture on the spot, took a snap of the horizon, blue meeting blue in a flare of gold, and handed me the picture. I looked at it for a long minute and put it into the cloth bag, wordlessly, as he started the motor to head back.

As we alighted at my apartment, he finally spoke, "Same time tomorrow." I nodded.

---------

The third day was not quite so pleasant. I was alarmed when we pulled up into a hospital. I hate hospitals. He knew that already. I can't stand the atmosphere of pain and loss, can't stand the sight of blood and violence, am liable to faint at the sight of a needle. But he gripped me tightly by the arm and led me inside. He spoke to a nurse, who seemed familiar with him, and she led us into the emergency ward.

Nobody stood still in that place. In fact, they were always in a rush. And with good reason. In the first 5 minutes there we saw at least six patients wheeled in with gruesome injuries or symptoms. One man had been in an accident, and was bleeding so profusely that the blanket covering him was entirely bathed in blood. They wasted no time in taking him into an operating room.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But he still held my arm tightly. Not cruelly, in the physical sense, but cruelly nonetheless. A nurse and a woman doctor wheeled in another guy who appeared to have been knifed. There were two gaping slashes across his chest and stomach, bleeding red, red blood. The nurse seemed frantic and kept saying that the operating rooms were full, and left to find someone who could do something about it. The doctor examined the man closely and suddenly seemed alarmed. "This can't wait," she said aloud into the air and beckoned to me. "You, press this down against this wound to staunch the bleeding. I am going to stitch the other wound right here. He has lost a lot of blood." And she handed me a strip of gauze. Just like that. I obeyed mindlessly.

It took her only a minute. She then moved on to the wound I was covering and stitched it up quickly and expertly. She examined her handiwork and nodded to herself. Then, she did the strangest thing. She pressed her palm against his forehead, closed her eyes and said a quiet blessing. And left, without a word to me.

I was still holding the blood-drenched gauze. I looked at my friend and he nodded. I put it into the little cloth bag with the blade of grass and the picture of the sea. The grass had left a green splotch across the picture, and now I was adding a blood stain to it. Strangely, I did not feel guilty about doing so.

We walked out and he talked. Here comes the speech, I thought. But this time I listened most carefully.

"You see it as a place of pain and suffering. But I see it as a place of unwavering care and heroism. That blood is the mark of both. Without darkness, there is no light.

The Green of Joy, the Blue of Serenity, the Red of Suffering, they are all part of one tapestry. Look at the embroidery on the cloth bag closely. It appears to be made of all colours, yet it appears to be made of just one colour.

In trying to avoid pain, you ended up losing joy. Life is not meant to be spent avoiding feelings but embracing them. Lose one colour, and you will slowly find yourself losing them all, and the resulting gray existence is even more intolerable than the very pain you set out to avoid."

I cried. I stood there in front of his car and I cried like a baby. He took me into his arms and rocked me slowly. I think I must have bleached the shoulder of his shirt with my tears that day.

I returned his bag a week later, because I sensed it was precious to him. The blade of grass dried up and the bloody cloth turned brown, and I threw them away, but I kept the stained picture. I had found my colours.

X-------------X-------------X

Twenty Four

2007-07-19T19:40:00.000+05:30

That's how old I will be tomorrow.

My birthday is usually something I mark on my blog with just a few words, wrapping it up with an indignant "See! See! That's how old I am. I'm not a kid anymore!" But not this time. I want to say more this time, because, in many ways, this has been my most difficult year. The most brutal, to be precise.

There is little point in dwelling on what happened; a lot of bad things happened, each different but related, each independently mind-numbing, but together, almost lethal. And yet, I feel obligated to at least make a note of what I did wrong. My best friend, an avid war-game strategist, put it in his characteristically blunt but accurate fashion, "Nobody can stand alone against an attack on multiple fronts." That was indeed my mistake. In my infinite ego, I believed I could put mind over matter, mind over emotion. And I believed I could do it alone.

I've come out with my body and spirit badly shaken, but with no lasting damage. I hope. My improbable saviour was actually this blog, and my blogger friends. Well... not so improbable. But I have learnt my lesson. I'll try not to bear every burden by myself. Not while I still have friends. As John Dorian would put it, "I can't do this on my own, I know, I'm no Superman."

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Talk to a girl about dragons...

2007-07-17T14:08:00.000+05:30

... and likely she will think you are so weird that she will not talk to you again.

Or at least, that was the situation a few years ago. Perhaps, after reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, they are more forgiving of such things. I do not know.

The thing I like about Harry Potter is that it has successfully crossed all boundaries that traditionally bind the fantasy fan demographics. People of all ages read it. As many girls read it as guys. As many... er... normal people as geeks read it. On the other hand, the good old fantasy hits like Star Wars, Dungeons and Dragons, and Lord of the Rings do not have such a universal audience. They are generally considered the province of weird and immature geeks.

Case in point: I made a joke about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in that short story and nobody thought it was particularly out of place. Consider instead if I write a story in which one guy asks another for the fifty rupees he owes him and the chap makes a Jedi-like gesture with his fingers and commands, "I don't owe you any money." If anybody laughs I will go on to a Yoda-style "Return my money, you must. Else, in grave danger you are." But I don't really see anybody laughing.

I was quite chagrined to find out how few people have in fact watched Star Wars or read Lord of the Rings. I remember a conversation with a friend that went something like this:
She: A blogger called Wookie commented on my blog... who or what is a Wookie anyway?
Me: Chewbacca is a Wookie.
She: Who or what is a Chewbacca?
Me: Chewbacca is Han Solo's co-pilot.
She: Who is Han Solo?
Me: sigh.

My brother happened to make a passing mention of Lord of the Rings to my s-i-l a few days after his wedding and she reportedly asked what that was. Once again, that made me go sigh. So much for the educated young woman of today! If I block a doorway, stamp my umbrella on the ground and yell, "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" she will more likely send me to a mental asylum than pretend to be a Balrog.

But, wait, all hope is not lost, young fantasy-lover. Thanks to J. K. Rowling. The day will come when a guy can talk to a girl about dragons and she will ask him what his favourite kind is.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

P.S. Try this party riddle and let me know if anybody laughs. I am not responsible for any health hazards that may result, though :)

Q: Why didn't Umpire David Shepherd go to Bilbo Baggins' farewell party?
A: Because it was his Eleventy-First birthday!

Are kids these days losing the reading habit?

2007-07-12T21:02:00.000+05:30

The Hindu today carried a news item that caught my eye. Incidentally, it had appeared in the New York Times yesterday. [link]

Essentially, what it says is that the habit of reading for pleasure is disappearing among the younger generation. They are either hooked on to their computers, X-Boxes, iPods and other gizmos, or they hang out with their friends. Reading is fast becoming "uncool", and though the Harry Potter phenomenon has helped, it has not quite done enough to arrest the trend.

Although this is neither new nor unexpected, seeing something as a hard statistic rather than a vague gut feeling makes a certain impression. This disturbing trend is not unique to the US. It is quite visible even in India, granted of course that the situation is not as bad.

For practically my whole life, I've been subjected to comments on my addiction to reading. Too many times have I heard some acquaintance of my parents say something like "Are you still reading a book a day? How thick are your glasses now?"

These are the same people whose kids spend as much time watching television as I do reading books and end up with far thicker glasses.

These are the same people who chide their kids to be more like "clever" me who "studied at IIT", never figuring that reading at an early age improves a child's mental faculties.

In the United States, parents lose influence over their children's lives at an early age. So it is not easy to place blame there... it is a somewhat complex social issue. But in India, if someone never got into the reading habit, I would place the blame squarely at their parents' feet. Not that the rest of the world has no role to play, but because parental influence is the easiest controllable factor.

But the complex social issue I was talking about, is that the loss of the reading habit is a small scene in a larger play. American society as a whole seems to be headed on a path of intellectual decline. I am reminded of an article I read in the bulletin of the American Contract Bridge League, talking about how poker seems to be the only card game kids are interested in playing. The game of bridge has precious few takers these days among the younger generation. Bridge simply doesn't offer instant gratification the way poker does. It takes a long time to learn to play well at bridge, and the game is less dramatic. It is infinitely more rewarding - for an intellectual person. There are similar statistics on the decline of participation in chess and in fact, all activities that involve deep thinking.

I really feel that Indian society can easily avoid falling into the same pattern, because of the strong emphasis on academic performance from a young age. If only our school system trained our youth to think instead of learn by rote. If I get into the contrast between the Central Board teaching and testing system vis-a-vis the Tamil Nadu State Board, I will end up talking forever. Suffice to say that I think the two important influences in a child's life in India - school and parents - need to be fixed. A little more awareness, a little more effort, and our country will be so far ahead in the world that nobody can catch up with us.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Potter-mania hits town

2007-07-10T13:55:00.000+05:30

Did you see Harry Potter's new hairstyle? It no longer resembles mine *sigh*

Did you see that girl who plays Luna? She's way too good looking to be playing Loony Lovegood...

Helena Bonham Carter is perfect for playing Bellatrix Lestrange.

Those Thestrals look scary na... wait, I shouldn't be able to see Thestrals...

Have you bought your tickets yet?

Short Story: A Whisper on a Zephyr

2007-07-06T00:25:00.000+05:30

(My first attempt at writing a romantic short story. Kindly grade me on mush factor: A - Nice - made me feel warm and fuzzy; B - Not bad, but I wouldn't hire you; C - Hand me some detergent, I got mush all over me! )

"I need your help," declared Tara, plopping down her coffee mug, "Remember my friend Sharanya?"

"Pretty little thing, shoulder-length hair, quotes Kipling when indignant and Yeats when murderous? How could I forget?" said Hari.

Tara giggled. "Well, she's been feeling low since her break-up way back in Jan, so I told her I'll find her a date who doesn't smoke, isn't a male chauvinist pig, and appreciates literature."

"Tough one."

"And seeing that all the guys I know are either married or in a different country, I thought you could recommend one for a blind date."

"Actually, I do know someone who fits the bill. I'll give Kiran a call. You've met him."

"Kiran... oh, the guitar guy? The songwriter-cum-singer chap?" she made a face, "Too chocolatey for my taste." Then she brightened, "What am I thinking? This is not for me. He'll be perfect for Sharanya!"

"Chocolatey?" he sounded amused. "Wait till I tell him. The expression on his face ought to be priceless!"

"Oh, you're an evil man!"

"So, which one am I?"

"Eh?"

"Married, or in a different country?"

Tara spluttered coffee all over the table. "Well, it's just that I've never seen you date and I've known you for how long, six years?" He raised an eyebrow as if to say all the more reason. "Not to imply that you're gay or anything, I know you're not," she said hastily. The other eyebrow went up. "Well, we've decided on Kiran, so that's that!" she said, defiantly ending the conversation.

-----------

"A blind date?" Kiran sounded doubtful.

"Don't worry, she is pretty, I've seen her," assured Hari.

"It's not the looks, I mean, I know nothing about her. What if she is the yelling type, or the technology type? You know I don't get along very well with most of your female friends."

"Look, I'll give you an escape call if you want, alright? Just give it a shot."

"Alright... twenty minutes after I'm in, you're calling me up, ok? I'll make up some emergency if I want to get out."

"Fine. By the way, I know exactly who you were thinking about when you said yelling and technology. She thinks you're too chocolatey, incidentally."

Kiran looked flabbergasted. "Chocolatey? Chocolatey? What the hell is that supposed to..."

But Hari was already out the door, grinning widely.

-------

Tara couldn't put her finger on it. She was bothered.

Why doesn't he date?

And why do I not think of him as "available"?

I have been taking him for granted.

Good lord! I haven't told him I am moving!

Why haven't I told him? Why is that so hard?

"Don't you have a call to make?" the voice shook her out of her reverie. Tara looked at her watch, and sure enough, it was time to make a call. She shot Hari a glare.

How did he know it was time for me to make a call?

She dialled the number and listened. Then, she simply said, "Ok," nodded and disconnected the call. As if on cue, Hari picked up his cell and made a call.

Kiran watched Sharanya hang up her phone and immediately excused himself as his own phone rang.

"Why on earth are you drinking hot chocolate? Aren't you man enough for an espresso?"

Not even a hello. "How the hell did you know I am drinking hot chocolate? Are you in here?"

"Actually, I didn't. But I do now."

"She's drinking pink lemonade. What do you say to that?"

"She's a girl. What's your excuse?"

"You're supposed to be asking how my date is going."

"I know you and I know her. I'm sure the date is going just fine."

"If you knew it would go fine, then why did you agree to call?"

"So that you would stop whining."

"Alright, so you had a reason to say you would call, but why did you actually call?"

"Couldn't pass up the opportunity to pull your leg."

The line went dead.

Hari chuckled and shut the phone. Tara, who was mentally filling up the other side of the conversation, was laughing. "You're an insensitive lummox, you know that?"

"So you keep saying."

At the other end, Kiran was apologising. "That was Hari. He's a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"Crumple-Horned Snorkacks don't exist."

"Exactly. He's unbelievable."

Laughter. A pause. "That was your escape call, wasn't it?"

"And that was yours, so we're square." Kiran was grinning.

"Ouch. Okay, we're square. Let's shake on that." She proferred a hand.

Kiran shook it, but she was already saying, "So, who are your favourite authors?"

"Hmmm.... J.D. Salinger... Ayn Rand... Aldous Huxley."

"Interesting... in a way, they are all social commentators, but their styles and viewpoints are all unique."

"My turn. I'm told you like poetry. Your favourite poets?"

--------

Tara was gathering up her courage. "Let's go for a walk. Someplace else. I have something to tell you."

Why did he not date?

"Okay. Beach?"

She nodded. "Yes. I need air."

It didn't take them long to arrive. They headed towards the water. "So, what is it?"

"I'm quitting the company. I'll be moving to Bangalore. You know my team here hates me."

"I know. You boss consulted me on your replacement."

He turned around to see that she had stopped, two steps behind.

"You knew?!! And yet you said nothing!"

"I was wondering when you were going to get around to telling me. I thought I'd give you some space."

Tara grit her teeth. Oaf! Lummox! Insensitive, thickheaded fool!

But a small voice in her head asked, Him or me?

------

"Oh my God!" said Kiran, "Look at the time!" Glancing down at his half finished drink, he added a rueful "The late hot chocolate."

Sharanya looked at her equally unfinished lemonade and pushed it away in distaste. "Let's leave. I want to listen to your songs, the ones you wrote yourself. Tara said they were quite good."

"What about dinner? It is rather late."

"We'll order pizza or something."

"Okay... I don't mind. Won't be the first time I stuck to my guitar instead of eating proper food."

-------

With growing panic, Tara realized why it was so hard for her to tell him she was moving. Why she never really thought of him as "available".

"Listen... I'm going to miss you. As irreverent and facetious and... and... an insensitive lummox as you are, I will miss you. This may sound crazy, but I want to ask you something."

"You sure have a strange way of asking me for a favour." A faint smile played on his lips. "Go on."

"Come to Bangalore. In fact, the company I am joining needs a team lead in their Embedded Systems department. You would be perfect for it. You'll get a substantial raise, I'm sure."

Without a break in his stride, he replied, "Okay."

Tara was again stranded two steps behind. Okay, he says. Just like that. And then she realized. He knew I was going to ask. How does he know all these things?

In a flash of insight, she figured out why he never dated.

"Do I have to search for an apartment?" That infuriating smile again.

She knew him well. It was no simple question. That man and his subtleties! This was as close to a proposal as she was going to get from him. Lummox!

My Lummox.

She put her hand around him and leaned on his shoulder, with a contented sigh. "No. Mine is big enough for the two of us."

He put his hand around her waist. They walked, the waves lapping at their feet.

-------

Sharanya was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. Her eyes were closed. Her feet swayed in beat to the soft strumming of the guitar, and the sound of Kiran's voice.

It feels like...
Early spring rain.
It feels like...
You're drunk on elixir.

Sometimes, love hits you hard,
Like an oncoming train.
Sometimes, love comes softly,
Like a whisper on a zephyr.

X-----X------X

Music and lyrics, where have they gone?

2007-07-04T22:35:00.000+05:30

My poetry blog informs me that I haven't written a poem in eleven months.

I've practically stopped listening to music these past two years, in spite of having a free napster account from my university.

I consider the lack of music and lyrics in my life as a symptom of something deeper.

I think I have been drifting in a sailboat, waiting for the wind, and forgetting that I have a motor.

Time to take control of my life, wouldn't you say?

Just Another Kid

2007-07-02T15:24:00.000+05:30

I think it was 1998. We had just got ourselves an internet connection, a dialup one of course, broadband was for millionaires in those days. I knew how to type out a URL and browse the site, but I had little clue what to browse. I ended up trying various things on the Yahoo portal at first.

I remember feeling low about something one day that month. Did it have something to do with my studies? I can hardly remember. My life was largely happy in those days.

Thus it was, that in a sulky, depressed mood, I entered the Yahoo chatrooms and sat around looking (and feeling) bored, observing the chatroom without actually participating.

And then it happened.

She: Stephen?
Me: Sorry, you have the wrong person.
She: Oh.... sorry. How are you?
Me: (confused) I'm not Stephen.
She: You already said that. And I said, how are you?
Me: (thinking she was just being polite) Oh... don't bother. I'm just another kid.
She: We all were at one point of time :)

And thus it continued, me trying to explain that she was wasting her time talking to me, she saying something... nothing... everything. She was a 30-something woman in Australia, married with kids. By the end of fifteen minutes when she said goodbye, I realized I'd been expertly pep-talked without even realizing it.

It may sound like nothing, but for a fifteen-year-old who had never before been actually depressed about anything (yes, I really had a nice childhood), it was a lot. I was one of those quiet and shy types in those days, stammering a lot, avoiding conversation where possible. I was low enough in confidence to actually tell someone that I was just another kid. Yes, that little pep talk meant quite a bit to me.

Within a couple of weeks after that incident I realized the general futility of entering public chatrooms and stopped, so I never bumped into that woman again, never had the chance to thank her. But the fact of the matter is that I changed after that. Gradually, but unmistakeably. Gone is the stammer from those days. Gone is the panic when a girl spoke to me (don't smirk). Gone is the lack of self-confidence. In fact, these days I have such a supremely confident air about me that people give me a wide berth. Another thing I don't understand - why do we treat people who are sure of themselves as though they are from Mars?

I never was good at diplomacy. I admire those people who calmly and subtly make people feel better, introduce faith and hope in the direst of situations. While I hold most motivational and self-improvement books and speakers in contempt - like Olive's Dad in Little Miss Sunshine - I acknowledge that there exist a few people who really are good at it. One time when a super-depressed friend said she wanted to kill herself, I slapped her, grabbed her shoulders and shook her so hard I near broke her neck. Effective, actually, but a butcher's cleaver is not often of help in a situation that demands a surgeon's scalpel.

If you ever feel low enough to say, "Oh, don't bother, I'm just another _____", and there are no good motivators around, come to me. I love slapping people.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Indian Bridge comes of age

2007-06-27T22:05:00.000+05:30

India stamped its presence on the world bridge scene this week with an excellent show at the 3rd European Open Bridge Championships. The Indian team Texan Aces reached the finals, losing to the French team Bessis 117-91 in a hard fought contest. This is the first time that an Indian team has gone past the quarterfinal stage in a major international championship. If you're wondering why an Indian team would call itself that, it's because the team captain, G. Venkatesh, is nicknamed "Texas" back in sunny California, where he lives now.

It says something about my life when I pick up Hugh Kelsey's Advanced Play at Bridge for casual reading on a train journey, and forget to watch the India - South Africa cricket match but remember to watch the aforementioned bridge final. But I am not alone. My partner for the chennai club scene asseverates that he will join me for our weekly game at the T.Nagar social club even if he has to come straight from his office. My friends who graduated with me from IITM two years ago, now spread across different time zones, still find time for the occasional online game. The Indian Bridge Federation has started conducting a Junior National Bridge Championship every year, in which travel and other expenses for all players are compensated. The IIT Kharagpur bridge team even has a coach, Sumit Mukherjee, who is a member of the Texan Aces team - or at least, they had when I last met them.

It is a sad but true fact that Indian sports fail to get infrastructure unless our performance on the international circuit is good. This throws us in a vicious loop, for unless we have the funds to coach young players, how will we do well? Look at the chess scene in India before and after Viswanathan Anand... happened, for lack of a better word. Today, nobody will dare underestimate an Indian player at an international chess tourney. Bridge needs a similar revolution, but I am confident that it is not far away. Indian teams have been consistently improving in their performance at world championships, and with a little encouragement for the junior players, we will be on par with the best teams in the world pretty soon.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Tomatoes and Onions

2007-06-26T15:19:00.000+05:30

I hate them.

That's right, I hate eating tomatoes and onions.

The normal reaction to this is one of disbelief, and in my defense all I can say is that everybody hates some vegetables. Well, the ones I hate are tomatoes and onions. I don't even mind eating bitter gourd. Really!

Of course, having likes and dislikes is something adults cannot afford most of the time (one of the few lessons I have learnt in my admittedly short life thus far), and after eating in a hostel mess for five years and a mixture of my roommates' cooking and my own cooking for another two years, I've learnt to close my nose and swallow anything that pretends to be food. Still, I surprised myself with how well I learned that lesson this week.

See, I went to a friend's house for lunch this weekend, and not knowing my food preferences, the first thing they served me was a tomato-onion-bhath-type thing. Another thing I've learnt in my short existence is manners, so I ate without protest, if a little slower than usual. In the old days I would have either declined or sat picking out every piece of tomato and onion from it before eating.

It was not my imagination - I really ate what would at one time be like climbing Mt. Everest for me, and I didn't gag and I didn't mind it that much. Still, I didn't completely surprise myself, because of something that happened in January.

I had come back from the US after 18 months there and my Mom was careful to serve food I liked. Of course, that didn't stop her from making the usual snide comments on how picky our little prince was when it came to food.

Perhaps it was the tone that made me out to be a spoilt little brat. Perhaps it was the fact that my parents really don't know how far I have come from my high school days - no matter what my Mother like to pretend, she has no idea how much life at IIT changed me. I heard her telling someone the other day that I don't drink coffe. Imagine! Like I was still a teenager!

But I digress. The short of it is that I lost my temper, and told my Mom squarely that I have grown up and I proceeded to prove it by picking up a small onion - raw - and eating it in front of them (taking care not to wince at each bite). You won't believe the deafening silence at the dining table.

My Mom is actually proud of me for that particular demonstration, but I am not so sure it is something to be happy about. To me, this is symbolic of a lot of things wrong in my life. It means that not only am I willing to make sacrifices and compromises on my preferences and principles, I have reached the stage where I actually don't mind doing so. It is not so much the fact that I am giving in that irks me, but the fact that I have come to accept that it needs to be done.

In case you have missed the point, I am not talking talking about tomatoes and onions anymore. I am talking about the mentality that drives people into submission willingly. I am more sympathetic of why women in India don't do more to fight for their rights, having first hand experience of a similar sort. It has to do with society and family and duty and a lot of things I don't want to go into - any Indian would understand the kind of thing I am talking about.

I am not trying to say that I have been repressed or stifled deliberately. In fact, my family has given me every opportunity to do what I like, without placing too many demands on me. I would probably just put it this way: I am coming to understand my duties and responsibilities, which arise by simply being part of a family and a society. And I don't like what I am seeing. I may be a little dense at times but I am not so stupid as to run from responsibility. Or from my family. Or from my country. Even though I can - all I have to do is put my foot down and I can live my life the way I want in the USA and never come back. That's simply not who I am.

I'm sure a good number of people reading this blog understand what I am going through. I would appreciate any advice dropped in the comment box. If I have to summarize this entire post in one sentence, I would say this: I ate a raw onion one day to make a point; I did make my point, but if anybody won a victory that day, it wasn't me.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

"US Return"

2007-06-17T10:51:00.000+05:30

This week I was visiting my grandparents in the town of Salem, where I have enough cousins that I won't get bored. One day I went to the video store with one of my cousins to get a couple of movies. As I chatted with him and sifted through the movies, the store owner asked, "Are you a US Return?"

Imagine my surprise! I was quite positive that nothing in our conversation gave away the fact that I'd spent some time in the States. I even checked with my cousin after we left the store if I'd picked up an American accent in these two years, and he said I haven't. In any case I had been speaking in Telugu... er... Telugu mixed with a little English. Okay, a lot of English. But I am positive I don't have an accent.

And then it struck me. I was wearing knee-length shorts. I suspect that in a town the size of Salem, only someone from abroad would dare go out in broad daylight wearing shorts :)

I've watched enough movies and serials in Telugu and Tamil to know the Cardinal Sins of a US Return.

Sin #1: A US Return cannot speak the local languages well. He mixes it with > 50% English.
Verdict: Guilty.

Sin #2: A US Return has a pronounced American accent.
Verdict: Not guilty.

Sin #3: A US Return is (almost by definition) a snob.
Verdict: Hmmm.... possibly guilty :P

Sin #4: A US Return wears shorts almost all the time in this blazing summer.
Verdict: Guilty.

Miscellaneous sins: A US Return guzzles alcohol, smokes a pack of cigarettes a day, chews gum, and sleeps with random women.
Verdict: What the...? I've been watching too many Telugu movies....

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Tread carefully...

2007-06-07T01:20:00.000+05:30

Some twenty-odd women meeting in my house.

I squeeze in through the mass to pick up a plate and get my lunch.

My family lectures me if I stay aloof, so I eat with them instead of going back to my room and utter polite greetings and "Yes, my health is just super now, thank you" when asked.

I say something about a relative and get shushed because his grandmother is in the room and may have heard me.

One of the women steps out of the house for a few minutes and now the other women start talking about her.

Apparently it is okay to say anything behind someone's back, but not to their face or in front of their relatives.

All talk is loud.

All jokes are facetious.

They think I ought to get married, and my age is still 23.

A circle of women is a nest of vipers. Tread carefully, or don't tread at all.

Cheers
Prashanth.

The Importance of Vocational Education in India

2007-05-29T11:42:00.000+05:30

We had some relatives come over in the weekend, from one of those little towns in Andhra Pradesh. Apparently there is a lot of confusion over in AP regarding engineering college admissions because the demand has suddenly outstripped capacity. So, this distant cousin on mine is joining a little-known college in Chennai.

This is the first time I am seeing that guy in my life so I was least bothered by the whole affair. But my uncle sought some kind of confirmation from me that he was doing the right thing, so he told me that his kid is joining the Computer Science and Engineering group and asked me if that is a good field to join.

This may seem perfectly normal and innocent, but it took me by surprise at that time, and although externally I stammered out a "Er... yes, it is the best," internally I was shocked that the basis of choosing his son's department in college was on the popular notion of which group is "good". This is a kid's life we are talking about, and one ought to be making a more informed decision! And then I sighed when I remembered that it wasn't all that different for me either.

Flash back to the year 2000. Things seemd so obvious then... IIT or local college? IIT of course. Mechanical or Chemical or Civil or Ocean engineering? Er, can't I get Computer Science? No? Too bad. Electronics? No? Ok, fine, Mechanical it is. See, the relative demands for the engineering disciplines had left me (and indeed everyone) with the impression that so-and-so group is superior to so-and-so group in terms of scope and jobs and etc. In reality we had little idea of what one actually does in those disciplines, and in any case didn't much bother to match them with our interests. Society says, engineering is better than pure sciences. Society says, CSE is better than EE and ME. Who are we lowly mortals to question the collective wisdom of Society? And how can we be so selfish as to think about our own interests when we have our Duty to Family and Society?

Wel, alright, it wasn't as bad as I am making it out to be, but it is true that I really had no idea what I was doing when I was ticking out my department preferences at the IIT-JEE counselling. I had some vague thoughts of getting into CSE because I liked computers, but then I couldn't be in an IIT. The "best" group I could get at IIT Madras was the dual degree in mechanical engineering, so I took it. Nobody, not even my brother, had bothered to give me any real counselling and tell me what was involved in taking a particular engineering major. For instance, I knew that Civil engineers planned cities, but it never occurred to me that planning road networks would involve discrete event simulation. Not that I knew what discrete event simulation was, but the point is, everybody assumed I wouldn't understand. So how am I supposed to make an informed decision if I don't understand? Why, follow the crowd!

The truth is that schools these days are so fixated upon their students getting good marks that they don't think beyond that. In spite of being in one of the best schools in the state, I received no vocational education. Having landed in Mechanical engineering, I realized that I had neither the interest nor the aptitude for it. Chemical or Civil or Ocean engineering were at least equally good choices for me, and I realized that if I had to learn electrical engineering in order to learn electronics, I would have died, so much did I hate my electrical technology courses. I managed to save my career by carefully choosing my minor stream, and jumping master's specializations from product design to intelligent manufacturing. I had finally been able to make informed decisions, and both decisions worked out splendidly for me. I had saved not just my career, but my life.

I shudder to think what would have happened if I'd got a better rank and ended up in the bachelor's program instead of the dual degree one. The Hand of Fate has given me second chances thus far, and I'm not the type to throw them away.

Flash forward to the present. The next question that my uncle asked me was, "Is that a new laptop that I saw in your room?" I frowned, "I don't have a laptop here," and my cousin interjected in exasperation, "That's called a desktop, Dad, not a laptop!"

Something about that exchange was so familiar, so natural, that I can't help but smile whenever I think about it. Perhaps kids these days are not as stupid as we were at their age. Parents will be parents, out of touch with technology and unable to guide their children at the crucial phases. But the youngsters today have the media and the internet, and are far better informed than we were. This kid had insisted on joining the CSE department even at the cost of landing in an unknown college, so he might actually know what he's doing. Might.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Blowing off some steam

2007-05-26T00:27:00.000+05:30

That last post was an uncharacteristic rant from me... I mean, hardly 3-4 of my 150-odd blog posts are rant-type. Fortunately for me, it seems to have succeeded... after re-reading a few of my favourite Feist and Asimov novels, playing a few rounds of bridge, and ranting about a few of the things that are wrong about this world, I feel normal again! I am frustu-free and raring to do stuff and enjoy this vacation. If only more of my friends lived in Chennai, or my doctor gave me a clean bill of health for traveling! Now I'll have to settle for terrorizing the local bridge clubs... and perhaps ransack a few bookstores...

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Yellow Journalism, Green Cricket

2007-05-23T01:11:00.000+05:30

In the old days, there were only two 24-hour news channels: BBC and CNN, and since they rarely concerned themselves with news in India, it was as good as not having a news channel at all. Today, I browse through NDTV, Headlines Today, DD News (whose standard is surprisingly right up there with the others), Times Now, etc. Note, I said etcetera. There are simply too many news channels, and they are all jostling for eyeballs and wondering how to fill their time slots when nothing newsworthy is going on.

This is probably the reason why we are seeing irresponsible yellow journalism in this time and age. I've had exposure to amateur journalism in school and college - enough to experience and understand first hand the importance of responsible journalism. Hence, I was shocked to see a segment on Headlines Today, a "sting operation" called "Operation Clean Bowled". Essentially, the reporter spoke to all the four zonal selectors with a hidden camera, asking questions about the relations between the Indian players and the coach, as well as among themselves.

First, the selectors have a right to be told that they are being filmed. They knew they were being interviewed, not filmed.

Second, anything the selectors have to say about "factions" within the cricket team and schisms between the coach and some players amounts to hearsay as they are not in the team themselves.

Third, Bhupinder Singh was the only selector who was elucidating on these things, and he seemed to be too drunk and too peeved to be taken seriously. The words of the other selectors were clearly being exaggerated and twisted out of context.

Fourth, any such opinion that is deleterious to the reputation of another person cannot be reported without their reply or rebuttal. The Headlines Today team did not even bother to ask any player of the Indian team what they thought of these comments, before broadcasting them.

It is clear to me that the channel had already decided to be as sensationalist as possible, without worrying about little things like truth, ethics or the feelings of the cricket-loving populace. In my opinion, there is only one thing that absolves their effort partially: that the Indian cricket team has been doing so badly that it had such slander coming.

I was in the US when the world cup was being played, and I didn't get a chance to watch it. However, I have watched the Bangladesh tour thus far and I am simply amazed at the drop in standard of the team. For example, one of the first deliveries I saw in the first match was a nicked delivery that flew between Dhoni and Sehwag at first slip. Both players stood rock still, expecting the other to dive for the ball. Admittedly, it was a half chance no matter who dived for it: but the point is, they should both have dived for it. The first slip stands a foot or two behind the keeper and they are not going to collide anyway. There were several more instances of such unprofessional fielding on that day, and if it weren't for some intelligent batting by Dhoni and Karthik, as well as some poor fielding by the Bangladeshi side, we would have lost the game. In fact, the Indian team is winning only because the Bangladeshis are a weak and inexperienced side. Against any other decent opposition, we would come a cropper playing this level of cricket.

Think about it. Karthik needs to work on that pull shot. Yuvraj seems to be having a technical problem with his high backlift, giving tame catches whenever the ball stops on the pitch a little bit. Sehwag still doesn't know the meaning of rotating the strike. Jaffer cannot even get off the mark. Even Sachin got out today playing a cross-batted pseudo-sweep slog off a delivery that was begging to be hit straight down the ground. It is ironic that Dhoni's ice-hockey style batting has been more effective than anyone else's.

Since the superb performance by the Indian team in the 2003 world cup, this is the first time that I am really watching a full series, and the contrast is jarring. There is a serious drop in the standard of the game in all three areas: batting, fielding and bowling in that order of severity. The Indian team really needs to get its act together before the England Tour.

Cheers
Prashanth.

"The Folder"

2007-05-21T17:24:00.000+05:30

Yesterday, my Mom made an innocuous request that I hear every other year: get rid of all that old junk lying around, I need space for my work files.

So, she brought over some ancient files and folders that had somehow survived similar purgings over the years. I still hang to them for sentimental reasons. Some of the things that she dug up:

- History assignments that I'd put a lot of effort into. Looking at them now, I actually wonder if I am less hard working than I was before!
- Stuff I'd done in art and craft class. I was really awful at those, why the heck did I keep them?
- A bunch of stuff I'd written in English class: prose analysis, essays, creative writing, etc.
- A sheet of paper in which each of my classmates had written a sentence on what they thought about me! Great fun reading that after all these years!
- The original drafts of some of my poems that now live on in my poetry blog.
- The Folder.

Let me tell you a little about The Folder. It belonged to a girl I had a crush on, back in high school. Essentially, I stole it and kept it as a keepsake because she changed schools after only one year in my class :). I did find out where she was a couple of years ago, and gave her a call, reminiscing about the good ol' days. I even told her about my crush, and The Folder, and we had a good laugh about it!

But as my Mom picked up the empty folder, I told her I'd kept it for sentimental reasons but she could throw it out now. Unfortunately, she opened it, and saw the bold red letters announcing "This folder is the property of R_____." So I told her - about the girl I "liked" at that time and that she is doing her Ph.D at so-and-so university now. And promptly my Mom asked, "Is she a Brahmin?" Moms will be Moms! This was nearly as bad as when I went to visit our friend Alraqs and when I came back, my Mom asked me if she was Hindu or Muslim, and what her mother tongue was. Why do parents need to know the background of every girl a guy names "friend"? So little trust these days :D !

Still, I wonder, why I am okay with throwing away stuff that I'd been saving for so long because of sentimental reasons. I told my Mom to throw away everything, but she saved the poems and a few essays, as well as my classmates' comments. I guess I'm in bury-the-past mode now. Somehow, throwing away The Folder is symbolic to me of moving on and thinking about the future rather than the past. It is clear to me that old hurts are long healed, leaving only pleasant memories in their stead. That gives me hope that the same can happen with more recent hurts... and that is good enough for now. It means there is something to look forward to.

Cheers!
Prashanth.

Favourite Sci-Fi/Fantasy Characters

2007-05-19T23:12:00.000+05:30

I saw this post on Sakshi's blog and decided to tag myself. Unlike Sakshi, I am talking about well-crafted characters, rather than ones to lust after :) and I am restricting myself to Sci-Fi and Fantasy genres. This is only because I want you guys to read these books - there do exist non-scifi, non-fantasy characters I like, I swear!

Nakor, from Raymond Feist's Midkemia novels. This guy appears to be a harmless prankster and trickster at first glance, with his perpetual grin and priestly background. Of course, once you are at the receiving end of his martial arts or magic spells, you would think differently. Even then, he would be the first one to tell you, there is no such thing as magic.

R. Daneel Olivaw, spanning Isaac Asimov's Elijah Baley novels all the way upto the end of the Foundation series. Why the heck am I including his initial? That's because the R stands for Robot. That's right, Daneel starts off as a robot police detective on Planet Aurora, but his friend R. Giskard's dying "gift" leaves him with the power to read and influence minds, and the responsibility to save mankind from itself.

Drizzt Do'Urden, Robert A. Salvatore's character who made dark elves the favourite RPG race overnight. Drizzt is a renegade dark elf, spurning a society in which deceit and murder are routine in a complex and never-ending game of politics. Escaping from their underground city, he arrives at the surface to find himself shunned and feared simply because of the reputation of his race. Drizzt's prowess with dual scimitars and his duels with the assassin Artemis Entreri are the stuff of legend in fantasy circles.

Mat Cauthon, the "luckiest" man in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. Mat survives an episode with a cursed dagger, only to find that he's been left with an unexpected side effect: the Devil's Luck. In all purely random circumstances, he finds himself getting the "best" possible result. Try explaining to your gambling friends why your dice always land as sixes! Jordan excels in crafting Mat's destiny to convert Rand al Thor's implacable enemy into an ally to stand against Shai'tan at Tarmon Gai'don, the final battle.

Ganoes Paran, a young nobleman in Steven Erikson's series, the Malazan Book of the Fallen. Ganoes has the misfortune of being a nobleman commanding an army squadron in times when nobleman aren't exactly popular among the common man, or the army. Finding himself the pawn of the Gods as much as the pawn of the Empress, he finds himself attacked and saved by men, Gods, Ascendants, hounds, demons and more as he becomes embroiled in a war in which the order of the Gods itself can be upset. Since he defies all attempts at manipulation by the Gods, they agree to name him the neutral "Master of the Deck" - and suddenly, Ganoes is the one manipulating the Gods.

Raistlin Majere, from the Dragonlance novels written by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. Never in any of the books will you be able to figure out if this powerful magician is good or evil! One of the most compelling and mysterious characters ever created, here is a man who has a love-and-hate relationship with every other character in the series. The only thing they can agree upon about him is that he is selfish. And yet, the only thing he wants from a dragon's hoard is a measly little spellbook. Does that mean he isn't selfish? Actually, no!

Danaerys Targaryen, an exiled princess in George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. Finding herself across the ocean from the kingdom of which she is the rightful heir, she finds herself routinely tortured by her mad brother and then sold to a barbarian king as a wife. How she extricates herself from that position into one in which she leads a massive army and commands dragons in her quest to reclaim her throne makes a fascinating read.

Fitzchivalry Farseer, a truly complex and compelling character created by Robin Hobb (or Megan Lindholm or Margaret Ogden). Fitz is the bastard son of a prince, and as such the King is faced with one of two decisions: kill the child, or use him. He chooses the latter, luckily for Fitz... or is it unlucky? For Fitz finds himself being trained as an Assassin, and finds himself an unlikely hero in a strange war against a stranger enemy.

Vanyel Ashkevron, the Last Herald Mage in Mercedes Lackey novels. Vanyel is a proud Herald of Valdemar, chosen by spirits as a Guardian of the Kingdom. He is but an average student, until a tragic accident leaves his lover killed and himself... well, his magic channels get blasted open, making him potentially the most powerful Herald on Valdemar - if he can learn to control his now runaway gifts.

Salvor Hardin, from Isaac Asimov's Foundation series. My favourite quote belongs to him: "Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right." If that appears to be a strange philosophy for a compassionate-type guy like me to have, read the book! Hardin rises to power as the Mayor of the Planet Terminus, whose ostensible purpose is to save all knowledge before the Galactic Empire collapses. Hardin, in a flash of insight, understands the legendary Hari Seldon's plan to re-establish order in the Galaxy - unfortunately, he has to figure out the exact plan for himself, as Seldon says that the act of revealing the probable future straight away invalidates all calculations!

I've provided Wikipedia links where possible, but if you want to know more about anyone, just ask! Or, even better, read the books!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Global Warming Facts - Part 1

2007-05-11T22:13:00.000+05:30

(I'm referring to news articles rather than scientific articles, and avoiding technical discussions in order to keep this article readable to everybody.)

If I told you that the Ganges and the Brahmaputra will both dry up by the year 2035, how hard would you laugh at me? Now, what if it was the world's leading scientific authority on climate change that told you?

I'm sure every one of us knows at least a little bit about global warming: that it is primarily caused by the greenhouse effect, and that greenhouse gas levels in the atmosphere have been rising because of industrialization and deforestation, that rising global temperatures will melt polar ice caps thus causing sea levels to rise, and so on. However, until recently, we've all been led to believe that we have a century or two to cut greenhouse emissions and quell the problem. The key phrase there is "until recently", because climate science has now progressed enough to tell us how bad the situation really is.

How bad will India be hit?
The first sentence of this article must have sent alarm bells ringing in your head. But a little thought will tell you why the Ganges will dry up, if not when: the Ganges, and indeed all perennial rivers in North India, are fed by glaciers in the Himalayas. As global temperatures rise, the glaciers receive snow later and start melting earlier, causing them to gradually fall back to the colder regions. This news article [1] in the Hindu has a detailed discussion about the effect of global warming on glaciers. The world's leading authority on climate change, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), believes that all North Indian rivers will turn seasonal, and ultimately dry up by the year 2035 itself if global warming remains unchecked.

But there's more. Another news article [2] confirms our worst fears: inundation of low-lying areas along the coastline owing to rising sea levels; drastic increase in heat-related deaths; dropping water tables; decreased crop productivity are some of the horrors outlined for us. Falling crop productivity due to the change in the length of the seasons is of particular concern, because there is an acute shortage of arable land in our country. With the population still growing rapidly, and crop productivity dropping, combined with the fact that we are already facing a grain shortage this year and have been forced to procure from abroad, the situation appears dire.

Is it fair? The major contributors to the greenhouse effect thus far are the developed nations, and even on an absolute basis (let us not even go into a per-capita basis), India's contribution to global warming is very little. And yet, we will be among the first to suffer its effects, as the change in climate will decrease crop productivity near the equator but actually increase it in the temperate regions. Effectively, the third world has been offered a very raw deal: suffer for something you didn't do, and still bear the yoke of cutting emissions because, frankly, at this point our planet needs all the help it can get.

How high is safe?
Let us leave India's concerns aside for now, take a step back and look at the global picture. Global temperatures have risen about 0.6 C on an average in the past century. There is a worldwide consensus among scientific circles that the adverse effects of global warming will probably be manageable for a rise in temperature upto 2 C, but beyond that, melting ice caps, unbalanced ecosystems, drastically reduced crop yields, etc. will cause worldwide disaster of monstrous proportions. If I haven't painted the picture clearly enough for you, read this article [3] and this article [4] detailing exactly what countries like Canada and Australia can expect in terms of "disaster".

But, is this where you heave a sigh and think, if it takes a century for the temperature to rise 0.6 C, then we have plenty of time to remedy the situation before the rise reaches 2 C? Wrong. You see, there is a lag between the rise in greenhouse gases and the rise in global temperatures. Scientists give the analogy of heating a metal plate directly, and then indirectly, by placing a metal block between the plate and the heat source: when you place the block, it takes some time before an increase in temperature at the heat source affects the plate; at the same time, if the heat source stabilizes or drops in temperature, the plate will continue to increase in temperature for a while before stabilizing or dropping. Thus, the increase in temperature now is a direct effect of rising greenhouse gas levels sometime in the 20th century. We are yet to reap the effect of the carbon dioxide we are currently dumping into the atmosphere! And the fact is, the amount of greenhouse gases that have been going into the atmosphere has been steadily accelerating over the past century.

So, where should we hold greenhouse gas levels in order to hold the global temperature rise to 2 C? The answer cannot be explained in one sentence, because there is some statistics involved. We cannot accurately predict the temperature rise from carbon dioxide levels yet; we have to talk in terms of probabilities. A recent study by Meinshausen et al. [5] gives some startling numbers. This is actually explained in much simpler terms in this press article [6]. The gist of it is that, we are already past the safe limit! You see, the current level of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere stands at 459 ppm of carbon dioxide equivalent (the actual concentration of CO2, corrected to include the effect of other greenhouse gases). According to the Meinshausen study, if atmospheric greenhouse concentrations are maintained at 450 ppm, the probability of global temperature rise crossing 2 C reaches unacceptable levels (> 50%). The current EU target is 550 ppm - at that level, we will be looking at a rise of around 3 C! In other words, emissions across the world should already be decreasing, not increasing at an accelerating pace. Countries around the world should be spending a significant percentage of their GDPs to save the planet, but everyone seems reluctant to move.

Panels and Reports
I had mentioned the IPCC earlier. The IPCC was formed by the UN and has actually been around since 1988. Over the years, it has established itself as the world's leading authority on climate change. It publishes its findings periodically, the assessment reports published this year being the fourth set, and the most controversial one because it reads more like a disaster movie script than a scientific report. Actually, there had been protests over the previous report that the IPCC is being alarmist, and the UK government ordered an independent study be made (a committee was appointed, led by Nicholas Stern), and its findings were released at the end of October 2006. The Stern Review actually reported that the IPCC had understated the situation in the third assessment report. You see, climate science is far from exact, and the IPCC tends to err on the conservative side. There are already publications that say that the IPCC has been conservative even in the fourth report - read this news article [7].

Perhaps the most important thing that the fourth assessment report has accomplished is that it has finally laid to rest claims that global warming is a myth. Yes, until a few years ago, there wasn't even a global consensus on whether global warming is the fault of man, because the waters got muddied by studies that showed that greenhouse gases, while absorbing heat radiated by the earth, happened to reflect sunlight coming in, thus reducing temperatures. Further, it is believed that geologically, the world is headed towards an ice age. Increasing global temperatures were attributed to periodic properties of the Sun! Now, at last, all these speculations have been laid to rest, and IPCC has stated that there is a 90% probability that the phenomenon of increasing global temperatures is anthropogenic (caused by man), and primarily because of greenhouse gases - what we've suspected all along. India, too, has finally woken up to the threat, and has set up a panel [Citation needed] to investigate the specific effects of global warming on India over the next few decades, and what remedial measures are feasible. The panel is to be headed by Mr. Pachauri himself, the current head of the IPCC.

To be continued...
In the next part: The Kyoto Protocol, Emissions Trading, Extreme weather events, Bush-bashing, cows, bees and more!

References

[1] The Great Himalayan Meltdown
[2] Climate Change Will Devastate India
[3] Dire consequences if global warming exceeds 2 degrees says IUCN release
[4] Two degrees of separation from disaster
[5] M. Meinshausen "What Does a 2 C Target Mean for Greenhouse Gas Concentrations? A Brief Analysis Based on Multi-Gas Emission Pathways and Several Climate Sensitivity Uncertainty Estimates." in H. Schellnhuber, et al., eds. Avoiding Dangerous Climate Change (Cambridge University Press, New York, 2006)
[6] The rich world's policy on greenhouse gas now seems clear: millions will die
[7] Some scientists protest draft of warming report

Joyous news...

2007-05-09T18:39:00.000+05:30

A breath of fresh air for a family riddled with nothing but ill news for a long time: I now have a nephew! This being the first birth in this generation on either side of the family, there has been even more phone-calling, hand-shaking, back-slapping and teary-eye-wiping than such an event would normally draw.

I've realized that my depression has crept into my tone in my blog as well, and it's only fair that my joy should show as well. Expect my writings to change from tragic-type stuff about myself to... er... for now, tragic-type stuff about the rest of the world *grin*. You see, my next post is going to be on Global Warming for the science blog, to which I haven't contributed in a really long time.

Cheers - and I mean it!
Prashanth.

For a fine cut....

2007-05-08T02:01:00.000+05:30

It was one of those days in the hospital, when I was in pain and mentally at a record low. My Mom was holding my hand and chanting prayers to Dhanvanthri, the God of Health, reading from a little sloka book.

I have high regard for prayers, as they are pure expressions of goodwill. If you've ever sent a prayer my way, you've earned yourself a kiss (er... a handshake if you're a guy!). Still, if you ask me whether I believe prayers can help in healing, I would say, "Not really, though I guess the possibility exists." See, I'm an agnostic at heart.

That's why I asked my Mom, "The next time you pray, ask God, why me. Ask Him what I did to deserve this." She didn't say much at that time. But a day later, she recounted some things she'd told me before. My Mom believes that I am destined to do great things. In my Mom's dictionary (as well as mine), that means I will do service to mankind - helping a lot of people directly or indirectly. Of course, all Moms think their sons will do great things, but every astrologer who's seen my horoscope and every palmist who's seen my palm has told her the same thing, and my Mom puts great stock in such things (but I don't).

And then she wrapped it up by saying words to the effect that God sets the sternest tests for those with the most potential.

Ouch! How does she do it? She'd just scored a bull's eye. You see, that's my philosophy, too, and I'm positive I've never spoken to her about it. Not the God part, the rest of it. Put in Mechanical Engineering terms (yes, I'm incorrigible), use the hardest tool for the finest cut. For shaping the finest jobs, you would use a diamond tool. In other words, if you're a teacher or mentor figure, the better they are, the tougher you must be to help them realize their potential. Explaining how deeply this is ingrained in me merits a small story.

My elder brother went to the same school I did, and he would often tell me about a horrific chemistry teacher. He ended up hating the subject because of her, and tended to perform poorly. I had this gargoyle-type impression of her, reinforced by stories I'd heard from a lot of people. When she finally started teaching my class, I found out that she was every bit as ruthless as people said she was. There was not a shred of leniency in her homework and exam corrections; she made unreasonable demands and expected everyone to cope up, and punished them when they didn't; the slightest misbehaviour inside her class or outside in her range of vision was swiftly dealt with.

I still had no trouble with chemistry, it being one of my stronger subjects. One incident sticks in my memory: the teacher had asked a question in class that nobody could answer because it was not in the text (not that anybody would have read the text in advance of the class!). So, she asked us to find out the answer for homework and submit it the next day - with a rather high minimum length of writing. It was an interesting question, and fortunately I had my brother's IIT-JEE reference books, so I did a little research and penned the answer with some flourishing language in order to fill up the sheet. I duly submitted it in class the next day, only to find that nobody else had done it, as it was outside of our syllabus.

After a lengthy diatribe to the class, she read out my answer. Complete with english words that many people in the class probably never heard, and references from IIT-level texts. I sank lower and lower in my chair. The class already hated me for consistently getting the first rank; I wondered if I would get lynched anytime soon. But wait, that wasn't the worst of it. You see, I'd made a good impression on her. How her eyes glinted that day! Ah, those evil eyes!

A year passed, and one day I found myself unceremoniously summoned to the chemistry lab.

Her: You missed the chemistry practical class yesterday.

Me (bewildered): Yes, I was sent to that inter-school quiz contest.
(See, we won it and it was announced in the assembly earlier that morning. So she very well knew why I missed the class.)

Her: If you are missing a practical class, you have to take permission from me in advance and schedule a make-up session.

Me: But, it was the Principal who sent me to the contest, so I assumed that was permission.
(I'm fourteen years old, for heaven's sake. What teacher would punish me over a technicality when I'd missed the class in order to win laurels for the school?)

Her: That only means I would give you permission to miss the class without argument. I'm giving you a zero on that experiment.

I was stunned, but offered no argument because technically she was right. It was exactly the kind of thing she would do, but I seriously didn't think she would be that heartless, as it costs her nothing to let me attend the make-up sessions specially set aside for such situations in the academic calendar.

That term, I scored 451/500 in total on my exams. A bright new girl in our class had scored 452. Calculation revealed that the zero in the lab class had cost me 2 marks overall - which meant that zero had cost me my first rank, breaking a seven-year streak. I didn't care that much, because I acknowledged my mistake (however small it was), and I knew I should have done way better than 451 (which, by the way, is exactly the kind of attitude that people mistake for arrogance - sorry for repeating this). But the story spread like wildfire, and people were extremely sympathetic. Me, I was grinning, for I'd figured this teacher out. I knew what she was doing. I already suspected that she'd graded my exam papers even more strictly than she normally does. Basically, she was pushing me to do better than I usually did. I appreciated the sentiment.

She was probably the most hated teacher in the school, but not by me, and as the years passed, she would talk to me on occasion. I remember very well, we had a free period in which she sat in our class just to ensure we didn't get too loud. I had a long conversation with her then about science and spirituality, and things like pranic healing etc. which I was familiar with because of my Mom. I always got the feeling that she was trying to tell me something important that day, which I didn't quite grasp exactly, but understood at some level, in my heart.

Thus, I have this to say, if there is a God: Hi. I understand. I don't hate you.

A Short Story: Mending a Rift - Concluding Part

2007-04-29T14:42:00.000+05:30

(Continued from here)

Author's Note: I had to sacrifice a lot to keep the short story short. I couldn't give shape to the characters and the fantasy world, and the story goes too fast at some points, and there are a hundred other things I am unsatisfied about. Ah well, next time I won't try to keep it short!

The Green Blade Company is a mercenary company characterized by the enchanted sword each member carries, purchased at great expense from the Kharygian Dwarf Smiths. The magical residues lend each sword an olive green sheen. Because the wielder must have some limited talent at spellcasting to use the sword effectively, and most magicians do not have the time or the interest to learn swordplay, the company is composed mostly of Wizard Tower rejects or runaways. Sal Sorde, leader of the company, expertly persuaded such people to join his company and even more expertly trained them to be a fighting unit... - Mercenaries of Hesnia, A Guide

Nevin struggled with the flint striker as he watched the other apprentices pitch tents and pile on firewood with practiced smoothness. Finally, he gave up and started chanting a "Scorcher" spell to light the fire, but the words of magic died in his throat as a black robed figure loomed in.

"No spellcasting from this point. They might be able to detect it," spoke an oily voice from behind a mask.

"Y-Yes, Wizard Xartan," he stuttered, as the figure nodded and headed towards the wizards' wagon.

He sighed his relief, just as someone behind him burst into laughter. Nevin turned, "You think that's funny, new kid?"

"He's just another Tower Wizard, even if he's a Necromancer. Nothing to be afraid of. And I have a name."

"Well, Kenneth Starfall," he stressed the last name as if to emphasize how stupid he thought it was, "You're new. You haven't seen the convicts being led into his dungeon, or heard their screams as he plays with their life-force. You haven't..."

"Starfall!" interrupted a shout from afar, "The scouts need you!"

"I have to go," said Kenny unnecessarily and scrambled towards the mercenaries' camp. Nevin grunted and threw his hands up in the air on seeing the grin on the twins' faces. "What kind of a name is Starfall, anyway?"

"It's his noble name," said Trent, "apparently he's descended from a noble family on his Mother's side."

"If I ain't a farmer and I ain't a noble, I might as well use my noble name, right?" imitated his brother, Flint.

"There's more to it than that, though, and Kenny himself doesn't know it," interjected a third voice.

"What do you mean, Deek?" said Nevin.

"I saw the expression on Wizard Harvin's face when he said that name, and Kenny was looking at the sky so he missed it. There's a story here, I just know it. We'll dig in the library when we get back," gushed Deek, and abruptly patted his ample belly, "Fellow apprentices of the Sixth Circle. Let's eat."

------

The Ethereal Plane is a spellcaster's boon as well as bane. For instance, the popular practice of "Going Ethereal", in which the caster gains a ghostly appearance and immunity from physical and magical attacks from the Prime Plane, is achieved by entering the Ethereal Plane while maintaining a partial grounding in the Prime Plane. This leaves the caster extremely vulnerable from attacks from the Ethereal Plane, which is not a friendly place... - Handbook of Planar Travel, Chapter Two

"This is the cavern where Wizard Verner became most agitated," said Kenny, and after a pause, "this time I can feel the disturbance myself." But the four wizards and the equal number of apprentices were already staring at the tunnel entrance to the west.

"Not good," said Wizard Giller.

"Not good at all," agreed Wizard Justyn.

Wizard Harvin turned and announced, "The rift is not far, and the demons are bound to block us. Sal, the Green Swords must keep them occupied at all costs. Xartan and the twins will support you. The three of us will slip by to close the rift - there isn't much time, we can all feel it. The other apprentices will cover us."

Everyone nodded as Harvin led them through the western tunnel, and into a large cavern.

Right into a trap.

The cavern had a ledge at a higher level with multiple openings, from which taloned demons emerged at the same time, surrounding them on all sides. A handful of them now blocked their retreat as well. From the only other exit to the cavern emerged a masked figure accompanied by a few demons. Black robes streaked with red identified him as a Necromancer practicing blood magic.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? More gifts of Desune's Blood?" said the figure, and then visibly jumped as he took in the presence of the Green Swords , "All of you? A princely gift indeed!"

Hand signals flashed among the Green Swords as they slipped into formation. Trent abruptly found himself pushed into a circle of men sheathing their swords and drawing wicked-looking crossbows. He counted three concentric circles around himself, the outermost circle wielding swords and tower shields, alternating with circles of crossbow wielders. Flint found himself in a similar position.

A thundering explosion sounded from the tunnel behind the masked man, followed by a perceptible lessening of magical pressure. The Necromancer seemed surprised but still confident, "Very clever indeed. Your friend may have slowed things down, but he'll find the Rift Guardian more than a handful, I'm afraid. Now, if you'll be kind enough to die..."

Demons sprang forward to grab the three Wizards at the front, but they were prepared and had already gone ethereal. The demons found themselves going through the Wizards like mist. The Necromancer opened a dimension door to the ethereal plane, but the spell collapsed as a pair of black bolts crashed into the doorway.

"A fellow practitioner of the Art! Why, Brother, do you side with these pathetic losers? They have nothing to offer us!"

A demon that sprang at Wizard Xartan fell to the ground, convulsing uncontrollably. "Because, Brother, they give me a quiet and civilized environment to conduct my research. And because you degrade our Art by meddling with Blood Magic!"

The man laughed. "Degrade? Why, Brother, have you not learned yet? Blood is power!" and threw a pair of red-streaked bolts at Xartan.

The bolts smashed through magical shields like a hot knife through butter, but Xartan had already disappeared, and reappeared several feet away. "And Art needs finesse, not strength!" as he summoned a grey mist, that in turn melted away the other Necromancer's shields.

The Green Swords were too occupied to watch the tussle, as demons sprang from the ledge to attack them from all directions. The twins settled into trances to chant spells that had taken them all week to prepare. The mercenaries acted with clinical precision. Shields parted as reinforced crossbows fired into the demons at close range, punching through their tough armour, and then the shields snapped shut again. Frustrated talons tried to find openings through the shield wall. Abruptly, at a barked order from Sal, the shields dropped to allow enchanted swords to slash at demon necks, where their armour was weakest...

Heads rolled. Crossbows sang. And shields shut again. The chanting of the twins had reached a crescendo, and two smoky figures took form on the ledge. As their chanting ended, the terrifying apparitions could be clearly seen - with blades instead of arms and long, razor sharp teeth, standing twice as high as a man, they snarled and tore into the demons' midst.

The other apprentices refused to get involved in the mayhem around them; they had their orders. Deek wove an illusion around them to hide them from the demons, and three invisible figures darted through the cavern exit a short distance behind the Wizards. They came upon them in a room with an intricate pattern chalked on the ground, with urns of what looked like blood pouring the red liquid through channels cut in more patterns criss-crossing the chalked lines. One corner of the pattern was charred, the channels disrupted. High above the ground was a complex-looking weave of magical energy, enclosing a jagged tear in the fabric of the Prime Plane.

The Wizards were still ethereal, unable to re-enter the Prime Plane with three demons snarling at them. On seeing the apprentices, the demons turned their attention to them.

And charged.

--------

Materials have completely different properties in the Ethereal Plane. The strongest of steel swords will shatter like glass in the Ethereal Plane. On the other hand, obsidian, which is easy to break in the Prime Plane, is the hardest substance known in the Ethereal Plane. Since it is impossible to craft anything larger than a dagger using obsidian, some magicians are known to have crafted arrowheads and sling bullets out of obsidian to protect themselves on the Ethereal Plane... - Handbook of Planar Travel, Chapter Four

Deek was already prepared with his spell. The demon attacking him was suddenly struck by the apparition of a disembodied hand clutching at its throat, squeezing and squeezing...

It believed the illusion, and choked to death.

Nevin, on the other hand, found his own throat being choked by a taloned hand. However, the owner of the hand seemed very surprised when the throat proved harder than a rock to squeeze. Nevin grinned and pulled a rune-covered knife from a fold of his robe, striking it into the eye of the demon. Smoke sizzled from it as the demon sank to the ground, the insides of its head having been unceremoniously melted.

Kenny had been an apprentice-in-training for just a little over a week, and knew exactly two spells. He didn't bother throwing a magic missile at the demon, as he knew it would bounce off. He didn't cast a protective sphere barrier around himself. Instead, he cast it around the demon, whose talons couldn't break the sphere without room to swing. Then, he gradually resized the sphere, making it smaller and smaller....

Bones crunched and the neck snapped.

"Very creative," observed Deek in appreciation. The Wizards in turn had wasted no time in returning to the Prime Plane. They were casting jointly to break the weave that protected the rift.

Nevin frowned at the weave. The loose strands at the edges led away into planes far beyond his normal vision... but why weren't they thinning out the farther they went? He cast a scrying spell to trace their ends.

And nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Stop!" he yelled, "It's a decoy! You're opening the rift, not closing it!"

"What? Explain yourself, Apprentice Hatcher, we are running out of time!" said Wizard Giller.

"And now we have even less time! The energy you're putting into breaking the weave is being channeled by the edge strands! Follow them to the end and you'll see for yourself!"

Wizard Harvin closed his eyes for a second and opened them with a start. "He's right! The real rift is somewhere in the Ethereal Plane!"

Abruptly, Kenny cried out, "I got it! It's a puzzle knot! My grandma used to make me puzzles like these.... see, if you pull anywhere in the weave, it will tip the egg - well, in this case, open the rift - but there will always be at least one spot, where if you tug sharply..." he demonstrated by breaking a strand, "it will tear!"

The Wizards and apprentices studied the knot, but Kenny was already working too fast to follow. He would tenderly test a spot, and then suddenly tug at another spot to break a strand. Slowly, the weave began to unravel... and when it fell apart, the rift inside disappeared!

The Wizards now glanced at each other uneasily. "Giller, you're the man for the job. We'll protect you," said Wizard Harvin, and the three of them opened dimension doors to step fully into the Ethereal Plane.

"What was that about?" asked Kenny.

"I don't know. Let me find out," said Nevin, as he cast another scrying spell. He opened his eyes wide and said in a hushed tone, "Wizard Verner is there in the Ethereal Plane. He's fighting a demon with a staff and horns... they're really having a go at each other, with Ninth Circle spells and such. The rift is near, guarded by a bunch of summoned nasties. I sensed a summoning pool nearby, I think there will be more creatures the longer we wait. But the rift is almost open... there's too little time for Wizard Giller alone to destroy it. We have to go and distract the creatures so that the other Wizards can help him."

Deek went white at that statement, but nodded his head. "You'll have to step through the dimension door first, Kenny. I can't hold it open from the other end."

And so they stepped through dimension doors, into a scene of total chaos as Wizards Harvin and Justyn threw magical energies to rip through nightmarish creatures charging at them from all directions. Wizard Giller was seated in a deep trance, concentrating on the rift floating above them. Kenny whispered a silent prayer and let loose the one attacking spell he knew. Somehow, the raw magical energy worked against these creatures, and as the other apprentices joined the melee, the Wizards nodded and joined Wizard Giller in trance.

As more and more creatures fell away, there seemed to be less of them coming at them. We might actually survive this, thought Kenny. That was when Deek clutched his side with a cry as one of the creatures clawed him. Even as he fell, he had the presence of mind to dimension door back to the Prime Plane.

Nevin and Kenny worked feverishly to protect the Wizards, when the battle between Wizard Verner and the Rift Guardian shifted closer to their location. Realizing what was happening, the Guardian dropped his guard to summon two creatures to attack the apprentices. Wizard Verner did not miss his opportunity, a glowing blade of pure energy in his hand decapitating the Guardian.

Nevin froze as he recognized the creature. Y'garian hunter - fast, ferocious, and impervious to all combat spells below the Seventh Circle. Even the textbook said, Run! But he couldn't afford to do that. Even if he died, he had to give the entranced wizards the time they needed. He chose a spell and chanted.

Kenny was about to throw another magical missile when he saw Nevin go white as sheet and decided to change tact. He pulled out a sling and a stone from his pocket and let fly, just as the creature flew for his throat...

Nevin opened a dimension door in front of him, just when the creature jumped for him - and it continued its leap straight into the Prime Plane. And watched in disbelief as Kenny splattered a Y'garian hunter's brain with nothing more than a rabbit sling!

Wizard Verner unsteadily walked up to them. Nevin asked him, "How long can that thing survive in the Prime Plane?"

"About a couple of seconds, then it will crumble into dust," he replied as he dug in the remaining hunter's head for the stone. "Obsidian?" he raised his eyebrows.

"My lucky rock," said Kenny, and added helpfully, "my grandma gave it to me."

Behind them, the rift snapped shut in a spectacular explosion.

Back in the Prime Plane, the Green Company were still standing. Not a single demon was. The twins lay unconscious from prolonged spellcasting. Wizard Xartan sat on a rock, nursing unseen injuries. The other necromancer had gotten away.

Deek lay clutching his side, when a portal suddenly opened in front of him and a Y'garian hunter leapt out, heading straight for him! He screamed as it struck for his throat...

And opened his eyes to see a pile of dust lying in front of him.

It happens...

2007-04-23T18:59:00.000+05:30

Have fun, says the Doc

After being laid low for what seems like ages by an illness, the doctors finally diagnosed it and have begun treatment. Essentially the conversation went something like, "You have a somewhat rare condition but we've identified it and there are effective ways to treat this. By the way, have you been under a lot of emotional stress lately?"

Damn! Why do these doctors ask questions to which they already know the answers? Apparently my condition is heavily linked to stress, and I've been advised to take things easy in life, have more fun and avoid stress. It's a rather bizarre prescription to give a patient who is yet to hit his 24th birthday, made even worse by 2 facts:
a) I've actually noticed that my health takes a dip when my personal life pendulum swings away from "Balmy" and towards "Crisis"
b) Asking me not to worry about things is like asking a fire to be cold or ice to be warm. I mean, some people are natural worriers, capiche?

So although you may think I've been told the best possible thing by my doc - the license to have fun - the truth is, I have to face the fact that I may have a relapse if I'm not careful about as little a thing as what's on my mind!

How personal is personal?

I make no bones about the fact that this is a personal blog. I'll never win a popularity contest, with the kinds of things you will read on this blog. I'll bet many of you squirmed in your chairs when I admitted to being reduced to tears, a couple of posts ago. I know, most people don't want to know such things about me. But I take the word "personal" very literally, and treat this blog almost like a diary. I do draw the line somewhere - for instance, I've never talked about the recent personal crisis that might have been responsible for aggravating my health problems. And yet, if you read this blog, you are sharing my life. Many who read this are already good friends of mine; but a quick look at my site and feed statistics tells me that there are a few regular readers who I've never had the occasion to say hello to. I'm glad such readers exist. In sharing my life, I'm sharing my life's lessons; and if anybody benefits from that, I'm a happy man.

From Skeletor to He-Man!

Having taken a long vacation to recuperate, I'm now left with a challenging target. See, I lost a good deal of weight - an unbelievable number, actually - over the past couple of months because of my disorder, and a few weeks ago I was naught but skin drawn over a skeleton. I think fondly upon the summers when I went to the fitness club regularly and even succeeded in not looking like a studious geek. To get back to that kind of shape is going to be incredibly hard, given the current condition of my muscles and joints. I ought not even think about a treadmill for at least a month. It's an interesting challenge: let us see then, how far I will succeed in this by the time I have to return to the US.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

It's settled, then

2007-03-28T05:40:00.000+05:30

I'm dropping the semester and going home to recover from the battering my health has taken.

Will continue to be in touch with ye all, and will continue to blog. Cheerio!

Prashanth.

The Weeping Willow and the Willing Weep-o

2007-03-21T05:01:00.000+05:30

Today was a surprising day.

I did two things I hadn't been able to do in a long time: attend a class and meet my advisor. This, a natural result of being sick in some form or the other for nearly a month.

I expected some semi-stern orders from my advisor to catch up on the research for the project I've been funded on, but I couldn't have been farther from the truth. My advisor took one look at me and asked me how much weight I've lost over the past few months. I winced and told him the truth. I'd already emailed him about the problems I'd been having, so I poured out my grudges against the university hospital and the pennsylvanian weather. He told me that health should come first, and said he would speak to the graduate advisor about getting me permission to drop everything and go home to recover. (He'd already given me permission to take the entire summer off.)

I was shocked! When I'd been at the depth of my misery two weeks ago, I had such thoughts but dismissed them later as absurd, my advisor wouldn't allow me to do something like that unless the situation was really hopeless. I told him now that I will give that thought serious consideration, but since I am feeling stronger than I did last week, I think I ought to wait another week and see if my condition continues to improve. My advisor said it was my call, and he would relieve me of research work for the rest of the semester if I choose to stay.

What concern! What compassion! Nobody's ever been this kind to me. As I walked away from his office, I found myself choking with emotion. And then I called up my Mom to tell her what I'd just been told, and that I am seriously considering returning home. I'd been "protecting" her by not telling all my troubles, so now that I am only left with a few minor symptons, I poured out the entire truth of the past few weeks. My voice broke down by the time I reached the end of my monologue, so I hastily said goodnight and hung up.

And then I wept, there by the windowsill at the end of the corridor, as a bemused american undergrad walked past me to the stairwell. I composed myself, walked back to my lab and informed my friends that I am thinking of dropping the semester and going back to India next week. But one month of pent-up pain and frustration wasn't done with me; my voice broke again and my eyes glistened. They waited till I had a full hold on myself and dragged me to a restaurant for lunch to cheer me up.

A couple of hours later, as my advisor returned from his lunch, he brought me a parcel, courtesy his wife. It contained idlis, which any South Indian worth his salt will tell you is the best food for convalescing patients. Lovingly packed with it was some andhra-style spicy chutney.

I should have wept again. But heck, where does logic ever apply when it comes to my emotions?

I smiled.

A Short Story: Mending a Rift - Part 1

2007-03-14T02:24:00.000+05:30

(Yet another fantasy short story with magic and wizardry! Fantasy lovers rejoice! The rest of you, have patience!)

The ancient cart rattled on along the dusty road. On seeing someone walking down the road, the man riding the cart reined in to asked for directions.

"Is this the way to the Wizard Tower?"

Sharp eyes took in a tired-looking farmer and four huddled children. "Don't need directions no more, go over that hillock and you can see 'er for yourself."

"Thank you."

"You look mighty desperate, and I don't blame you. But sometimes the price is too high."

The farmer blanched but continued on his way. He glanced back at his precious children. Could he really give one up? Was it worth it? Then he thought about his wife, held up a foot from the ground as the hellish creature crushed her neck...

Retribution was worth anything right now.

---

Wizard Harvin was tired. He was tired of listening to stupid requests from nobles with petty schemes. There was no way the Tower could involve itself with any of them. What he wouldn't give for a...

Standing in his office was a commoner with four children, every one of them shining like full moons with the Power.

Harvin rubbed his eyes and bade them sit down. The farmer wasted few words. He came from a village far west, almost at the Selyssian border. Strange creatures had emerged suddenly one day and attacked their village, killing nearly half of the villagers including his wife. Weapons were no good against their hard shells and sharp talons. His family had only managed to survive because a passing magician had fought off the creatures, and counselled the entire village to leave before they came back.

Harvin took notes and called for additional counsel. The peasant's story bore checking out. Besides, if he was willing to apprentice one of his children to the Tower....
He had drifted in his thoughts when one of the boys piped up, "Begging your pardon, sir, but the attack was far from random. Wizard Verner said they were harvesting Desune's blood for opening a dee... demon... dimensional rift."

And the three wizards who happened to walk in at that point froze in the middle of their steps.

Harvin eyed the boy warily. "Tell the story again, boy. Fully and from the beginning."

---

"Wizard Verner popped into our village one day out of nowhere. Kepp - that's our Ranger - swears he was watching the roads and ne'er saw him coming, and that's impossible 'cos Kepp's got the best eyes in all of Hesnia."

"Anyway, he told us that he had come to investigate a... wrongness... in the hills northwest of our village. At this point Kepp became excited because he'd felt it too, and there was some places where the birds and little animals refused to go anymore, only we'd told him to forget it 'cos it had nothing to do with us anyway."

"But Wizard Verner said it was important, and it might affect the earth for miles around. Now, we're farmers and herders back in Eringvale, so now we became concerned and told Wizard Verner to take Kepp and poke around to see what was wrong."

"They looked around for a couple of days and I tagged along. Wizard Verner taught me a little magic, too. See?" The lad closed his eyes and recited a phrase from memory, then clapped his hands in front of him; a dull glow of light emanated from his palms. It lasted a couple of seconds before flickering out. The farmer winced at the demonstrationg but the boy glared back at him.

The Wizards exchanged glances. "Go on with the story, lad," said Wizard Harvin.

"Anyway, Wizard Verner looked more and more unhappy everyday, the more he saw. And then suddenly he stood up erect and cried, To the village! It's under attack!"

"Naturally Kepp and I were confused but we ran as hard as we could back to the village... and sure enough, there was this bunch of creatures attacking the village. They had talons instead of hands and I saw Blacksmith Jarvis swing a sword at one of them, it just reflected off the body like it was made of armor..."

"Them creatures were behaving strangely, though. Some people they cut with their talons like they were meat. Others they crushed the necks and dragged the bodies back with them.

"Soon as we came within range, Wizard Verner spoke a harsh word and an arrow of fire shot out from his hand to the nearest creature, but it bounced off like Kepp's regular arrows, although it were made of pure elly...ellymintal energy. Wizard Verner was deathly surprised at this, and threw a lightning bolt, and when that bounced off he blasted the earth to knock the nearest ones off their feet."

"Then he leapt over to a hillock - near thirty feet in one leap, mind you, and started tossing fireballs into their midst. That didn't ruffle them either, but it got their attention."

"At this point, Wizard Verner started some really complicated spell - as though he were calling something from heaven itself - and sure enough, a bunch of fiery rocks came streaking in out of the skies and punched holes through 'em creatures."

One of the Wizards leapt off his seat and yelled, "A meteorite strike spell! Without an apprentice to support and ground him! He's barking mad!"

Harvin quietened him down, "He was desperate, Regus. I might have done the same in his position. Continue, lad. So then Verner collapsed on the hillock as the creatures ran away?"

The boy looked puzzled. "No, sir. The creatures were still moving. And Wizard Verner was still standing. He the called up some green smoky stuff that got the wounded creatures all screaming..."

"Acid fog. After calling a meteorite strike! Amazing! So then he collapsed?"

"No, sir. A couple of 'em creatures were climbing up the hillock so I yelled at him to run, and he simply jumped down the thirty feet and landed like a feather. By now the creatures had enough and they ran, but they took some of our dead with 'em."

"That's when Wizard Verner told us to leave before they came back, and told my Da to come here if he wanted Ma avenged.." and the boy started crying. Everyone watched uncomfortably as he wiped his tears away and defiantly ended his report. "Then he gave me his ring to give you.." handing the ring over, "and said you would believe me if I said to you that stuff about harvesting blood and dimensional rifts and all that. And then he walked over to our bed and he collapsed like you said."

And with that, the boy leaned back like a deflated balloon.

Harvin held out the ring and said a word to trigger the illusion that identified the owner of the ring. "Winston Verner, Class of 682" the words floated up, circling a three-dimensional miniature reproduction of the Wizard Tower itself. That was to be expected. What was not expected was a monkey striking a salute from the arch-wizard's chamber.

Harvin smiled. "Verner's personal touch. There is no doubt about the veracity of the story now."

The Wizards in the chamber looked at each other uncomfortably, and one of them spoke, "I never thought I'd see the day when I say this, but I think we need help if we are to do this."

Harvin smiled his mysterious smile, "You're quite right about that. We need to bring in some professionals." He turned to the farmer. "Regarding your payment..."

"Take him," pointing to the boy who had given the story, "I think he actually wants to study in this God-forsaken place."

"...in cases like these," Harvin continued smoothly, "when the entire realm is affected, no payment is necessary and we thank you for bringing the issue to our notice. And if payment had been required, gold would suffice, but that would be waived if you are willing to apprentice one Talented child to the Tower. As it now stands, you can leave the boy here or take him with you if you wish. But he is strong in the Power - all your children are - and I strongly advise you to leave him with us. He will do great good to the realm one day."

"I'm staying," said the boy, crossing his arms.

And that settled one issue.

Now it only remained to stop a demon army and mend a dimensional rift....

To be continued.

How deep-rooted are your prejudices?

2007-03-08T04:05:00.000+05:30

A month ago, I was helping a friend pick some books from the library. I handed her Arrows of the Queen by Mercedes Lackey, and told her that the author's books make for fast and fun reading. And then I prattled on about Lackey being a slightly controversial author because her books are popular in the age 16-25 range, but the hero in one of her series is gay, and some parents spoke out against her "bad" influence on teenage kids.

To me, that was just a random piece of information - interesting, but irrelevant to enjoying a book. Kind of like if I was to say, Robin Hobb (or her other pen name Megan Lindholm or her real name Margaret Ogden) is slightly controversial because she has taken a stand against fan fiction. But my friend wore a look of consternation on her face and asked if there were any gay characters in this book. I assured her there weren't, and she did take the book home to read.

Last week, I was watching the Academy Award presentations, and one of the winners was a woman (I forgot her name) who, on receiving the statuette, proceeded to thank her wife and kids. My roommate sitting next to me put his hands to his temples and started shaking his head.

I never quite thought of it in this way before, but I do not consider homosexuality an unnatural thing. Does that mean there is something wrong with me, or with my friends? I guess I must be more tolerant and unprejudiced than I thought!

Thoughts, people?

Writing an epic fantasy

2007-03-04T10:12:00.000+05:30

After nearly a week of lying sick in bed, my body seems to have rallied enough for me to have the energy to sit and type out this post.

Being sick is actually a good time to think. For while the body may be too tired to even head to the kitchen for a drink of water, the mind has enough active time to give thought to things you may otherwise sweep under the carpet of day-to-day work and worries.

And so, I thought about what I want to do with my life. I'm sure all of you have asked yourselves this question before - and so have I - but this time I gave it plenty of thought and I set some actual goals.

GOAL #1: Write an epic fantasy

Most, or all, of you reading this will be familiar with my obsession with fantasy fiction. Well, I have finally reached a stage wherein I have read so many authors and books in this genre that I could write a thesis on it. I have always wanted to write in this genre myself, as a result of which I have sometimes inflicted some of my short stories on you poor readers. Fortunately or unfortunately, the years have passed and the goal still remains. Some day, I will write and publish an epic fantasy series. The road is very long - as I learnt to my chagrin when I inflicted some of my short stories on you readers - but I still intend to make a serious attempt. Even if it takes decades.

GOAL #2: Be a champion for my country

These past four years, I have surprised myself with my hunger to learn more at the game of Bridge. Already, I can participate at the national level and not embarrass myself. In ten years, I might even be able to win something at that level. Now, India is not a country that can compete well at the international level at athletic-type events; our physiques are meant for farming, not hunting. But our brains have always been top-class. Viswanathan Anand is a world-class champion. I definitely feel we can be winners in the international arena in Bridge as well. Why wait for champions to arise? Aim to become one! (Edit: Took me a re-read to realize how arrogant that sounded. But hey, I mean every word of it!)

The rest of my goals are a bit confused. Academically, I want to be a scientist... in what field, I still don't know. I have some vague plans for my family business - we are well placed to expand our business and take a sizeable chunk of the market in South India. I have even vaguer plans to give something back to society in the form of education. Start a university? Or, more realistically, become a professor at an IIT?

Upon reading this, one might say that I must be unhappy with my work to have all my set goals only in my extracurricular activities. But that is not the case at all. I love research. Its just that some goals will become clearer with time.

Planning one's life is harder than planning than epic fantasy, after all - for you have to be realistic.

Down Sick...

2007-03-03T12:51:00.001+05:30

Aisle bee bach shortly.

When words are no good

2007-02-25T04:17:00.000+05:30

If I have to select a favourite among my cousins, it would probably be her. Slightly younger than me; pretty and ready with a smile and a teasing rejoinder for everything. At every family event - like weddings - she would try to pull in my brother and I into a game of Anthakshari with the rest of our cousins. Us sober folk, of course, would never join in... listening to me trying to sing would be like listening to a donkey giving an opera.

About two years ago, she got married, a very good alliance for them: the groom's family lived in australia and were doing well for themselves. They chose this little (yeah, to me all my female cousins are little because they are so short!) girl from that little town partly because they had some mutual acquaintances, and partly because the groom wanted a "housewife" wife - someone who would be great at running the household and taking care of him and his parents. Something for which she was perfect for. And of course, he probably fell for her smile the moment he saw her photograph - or so we teased her.

She has a one-year old kid now, and a couple of months ago she came back home with her husband and the baby to visit her family. Everybody was so happy.

It began innocuously, with a toothache. He went to the dentist, who recommended that the tooth be pulled out as soon as possible. And so, he did. We will never know what went wrong with the simple procedure. Or perhaps it was not related at all. But, the next day, he complained of dizzy spells, like he felt like fainting. The day after that, he did faint - while climbing a flight of stairs - and fell unconscious ten feet to the ground from the first floor railing.

The small town hospital was not equipped for this. They rushed him to a good hospital in the nearest city. They said he had a clot in the brain, and he had gone into a coma, and his life was in serious danger. I'm not sure how many days he lasted in the ICU, but he died. Leaving behind a grieving 23-year old widow with an infant, and two shattered families.

What can one say in the face of such senseless, mind-numbing tragedy? Nothing. Nothing you say can ever be good enough to mean anything. The cousin who was always ready with a laugh, a smile and a tease - now I wonder if I will ever see her smile again.

As if to say, this can happen to anyone, even you, the dead man's name was Prashanth.

It almost seems selfish to think of one's own troubles when such things happen in this world. Take back this one thought with you today: it could happen to anybody, even you. Do not turn away from tragedy and into the comfortable shell of your life, thinking, "This has nothing to do with me," for it could easily have been you. Open yourself up to all things happening out there in the world - good and bad - and feel. For others.

For if it ever happens to you, would you want others to shudder, turn their backs and say, "I'm glad it has nothing to do with me"?

Sorry, I'm disabling comments on this post. It seemed the appropriate thing to do.

When it's hard to be indignant...

2007-02-17T10:21:00.000+05:30

"... but she thinks he's a bit of a snob, and she asked me how I can stand sitting next to him and working with him everyday."

"Yeah, actually, when he started working here, I thought he was a snob as well..."

No, I'm not pouting inane watercooler gossip here on my blog. That was the conversation between two of my friends. About me. With me standing next to them. Wearing a dumbfounded expression on my face while they continued talking that way - in all seriousness, at that!

I tried gasping and spluttering for a few seconds, but heck, all I could really do was smile. This is where the "Frankly, this is what I think, but I don't have the time or inclination to talk about this further, so bye" attitude really backfires. I mean, an opinion expressed is not a positive contribution unless you stand around for a painfully detailed argument. Fortunately for me, at least my friends don't think I'm that much of a snob any more... they know that it's simply the way I am. I speak bluntly - "Abrasively," as my advisor himself put it - and don't know how to sugar-coat my messages.

When is it hard to be indignant? When the accusation's true, no matter what the justifications, mitigating factors and extenuating circumstances. I guess when people get to know you well, they understand that that's just the way you are, and you're not being condescending... just... self-centred. But why are people so afraid of being judged, that they end up judging others?

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Talk to your neighbour

2007-01-31T23:49:00.000+05:30

I'm normally a pretty quiet chap when I'm traveling alone - be it by bus, train or air. I assume that people like to sit back and relax, rather than be bothered by some random stranger sitting next to you. But times change, and I'm not averse to conversations with random people these days. On one of the flights I took to come to India this december, for instance, I had a somewhat unusual experience with my neighbour.

The woman sitting next to me introduced herself as I sat down, and even recognized the authors on the book I was reading (that's a rather unusual occurrence, given my reading taste), saying that she'd read some of their other books. Then we made small talk regarding where we live and what we do. She was returning to Naples for work, after spending two weeks with her family in the US for christmas. I noticed that she had difficulty keeping still: she would constantly tap her feet or stroke her hair or something like that. When I asked her about it, she admitted that she was high-strung, and was missing her cigarettes, which would normally relax her. She was afraid of flying, especially over water; and she'd had a rough week, including a close call in catching her flight.

I automatically went into lecture mode. I explained to her that flying was safer than driving, and flying over water was safer than flying over land. I scolded her for being a chain-smoker and a chain-drinker of coffee; I told her how both those things are extremely unhealthy and contribute to nervousness. I even told her about how Yoga and Meditation would provide a long-term solution in helping to relax.

Then I asked her why she was so nervous when she'd just finished a two week vacation at home. She grimaced and said that spending time at home was no vacation for her; and then she promptly broke into tears!

And so I found myself holding a weeping thirty year old stranger's hand, somewhere in the stratosphere over the atlantic ocean. To make her feel better, I told her some of my own troubles, ending with a philosophical "Everyone has problems: it's how we face them that's important."

We became more friendly over the rest of the flight, and we wore genuine smiles as we bade each other goodbye, knowing that we would never see each other again. I often wonder, if anything I said helped, or if she took it as the usual inscrutable eastern mumbo-jumbo. I like to think that I made a difference. Vain, I know.

Since then, I resolved to be less taciturn than my usual self while traveling. I think I made a friend on my flight back to the US, a computer science grad from bangalore. At the very least, I made one person's flight less lonely. That's the crux of it, isn't it? In the old days, I liked to be alone, and I assumed everyone felt the same way. These days, I don't mind being alone, but I've come to appreciate the value of good company.

May your future travels be less lonely. Talk to your neighbour!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Approaching normalcy...

2007-01-20T11:28:00.000+05:30

After surviving exams, surgery, the Charles De Gaulle airport, and a horde of relatives saying, "Oh my child! How thin you've become!", my life is slowly coming back to normal. Until I'm back at my desk in Penn State at the end of this month, though, I'll continue to be a little detached from the online world.

The solution to life, the universe and everything does not appear to be 42, but a series of little 42s. For instance, look at the trials I mentioned above. Exams? Attend classes more regularly and pay better attention. The Charles De Gaulle airport? Never fly Air France again. Being thin? Er... regain those lost pounds (somebody tell me how!) and don't give my relatives an opportunity to make such statements. I feel like I'm in one of Nissim Ezekiel's poems... the cosmos conspiring to keep me thin, and my own negligence making it worse.

And of course, there are the unavoidables. What was the surgery for? I can hardly spell it. What was the cause? Even the doctors aren't sure. At least they knew how to treat it, I should be grateful for that. I feel a little vexed that this prevented me from having fun for a while - couldn't meet up with my good ol' pals or play at the local bridge clubs, but I tell myself, it could have been a lot worse. I did get to read a ton of books, so I had something to occupy me, even if I've been reduced to reading masala authors like Clive Cussler.

The leap from epic fantasy to pulp fiction is rather painful, and I'm itching to get back to the public library in State College, but hey, I'm in one piece, in reasonably good health, and the future is worth looking forward to.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Too much....

2006-12-10T08:31:00.000+05:30

I have too much on my plate at the moment. It must be obvious to the few people who read this blog that I haven't been around much on blogger the past month or so. It's going to continue this way for a couple of weeks more, until things cool down around here. I haven't really lost interest in blogging, it's just that blogging has to take a back seat to real life.

My rambling mind makes a weird connection to this: when I play bridge, I get awarded masterpoints for good finishes. As I gain more points, my ACBL ranking improves. Initially I would keep track of such things, but in the past few months I realized the futility and vaingloriousness of it all. There are a lot of important things in life. Things like bridge and blogging may be fun pastimes, but they don't come under the category of important things to deal with. They are things to do when one has leisure time, which for me has been increasingly at a premium.

At present, I'm sitting at one of those cusps in life when everything can change; in another year or so, my life might be unrecognizable from what it is today. I'll be back to the blog world after two weeks. In the meantime, wish me luck.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Degrees of Freedom

2006-12-01T03:06:00.000+05:30

It's a rather stupid pun, actually. That the more degrees you study, the more degrees of freedom your career has.

Education may not be necessary for making a good career for yourself, but it certainly helps. For all the people who roll their eyes at grad students and claim that a bachelor's degree is more than enough to start you off and the rest is up to your ingenuity, I feel only pity. Not everyone has a love of learning, but at least be smart enough to acknowledge that having an additional degree to your name will take your farther in your career.

The thing is, I am considering extending my Ph.D. by a year to get a masters in math. If I do that, I'll be qualified as a mechanical engineer, manufacturing engineer, industrial engineer, operations researcher and a mathematician, all before my 27th birthday! Strangely, I do not think any part of that education is wasted. As a matter of fact, I do not think any education at all is wasted. Education is the one of the few things that nobody can take away from you. It is a source of respect, from the self and from others.

Now, I feel that the more diverse your education is, the more breadth of problem solving methods you can bring to bear on your work. I have made it a point to take courses from fields as diverse as electrical engineering and chemical engineering, and I am constantly surprised by how useful it would be to approach a problem in my field (er... fields, if you prefer) from their perspective. It's so interesting, sometimes I think I could do another couple of degrees after this one.... kidding! Three is enough... a fourth I am considering. End of story :)

Cheers,
Prashanth.

The Uncertainty Principle in Life

2006-11-18T04:27:00.000+05:30

Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle states that the more accurately you try to measure the position of a particle, the less accurately you can measure its velocity, and vice versa. It is not that the particle itself does not have an exact position or velocity; rather, the act of observation itself is associated with such uncertainty.

A strange thought struck me this week. The more sure I feel about where I stand, the less sure I feel about where I am going. If I manage to decide upon where I am indeed going with my life, I feel insecure about where I stand right now in the context of that goal.

Profound, or profoundly stupid? I don't know.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Table for one, please

2006-11-06T04:15:00.000+05:30

It happened again.

I walked into a restaurant, and said those words. And they had to ask, with raised eyebrow, "Just one?"

What is it with these Americans? If you have lunch alone, is there something wrong with you? I'm a poor Indian graduate student... this is hardly unusual for me, anywhere.

In India, if you saw a guy working late in his lab on a friday night, you would think, "That's one hard-working guy." Here, if you see the same, you're supposed to think, "Loser." The culture conditions you to think like that.

Wake up, America. You can't complain about offshoring when party culture rules work culture in your midst.

Btw, Jorge Cham knows where to hit the humour nail:

Say Cheese,
Prashanth.

I'll never understand...

2006-11-01T11:03:00.000+05:30

- How I can be an expert on cooking in theory (thanks to a lifetime's worth of influence of Tamil Nadu's foremost expert in the field) but suck at it in practice... big time!

- How I can consider it a compliment to be described thus: "Prashanth is a nice guy but very, very weird."

- Why there is a Northern Blot, a Southern Blot, and a Western Blot but no Eastern Blot. And the fact that none of those blots have anything do with the cardinal directions (they are names of experimental techniques in biology, for those who are wondering what on Earth I'm talking about).

- Why I do a lot of day-dreaming but little of regular, ol' fashioned night dreaming.

- How I can clench my teeth stoically at physical pain but cry like a baby when watching a sentimental movie.

- How I can be a systematic and analytical thinker when it comes to academics but keep messing up the mundane matters in life.

*sigh* What can I say, that's me.

Looking forward to....

2006-10-26T22:01:00.000+05:30

Eragon: The Movie

In a kingdom ruled by an immortal and tyrannical king, people cower in fear and pray for a saviour. Some whisper about the days when the Dragon Riders were the guardians of people, and used their magical abilities for the good of the realm.

Eragon is the first person to be marked with the sign of the dragon in over a thousand years, and becomes a magnet for danger, and a beacon for hope...

Incidentally, Christopher Paolini wrote the book Eragon at the age of 15! Unbelievable, isn't it?

Pssst... girls... do you find the hero smart/handsome? Maybe the next generation of people like me will be able to talk to girls about dragons without feeling weird :)

View the trailer for the movie here.

Neverwinter Nights 2: The Game

The Sword Coast teeters on the brink of war, at a time when the realm desperately needs to stand united against dark forces gathering under the banner of a legendary evil. A lone hero comes into possession of a mysterious relic, whose secrets hold the key to a situation that threatens to enslave the world...

I've never pre-ordered a game in my life, but I've done so now. NWN2 is the most looked-forward-to computer game of the year, because it will combine the party-based strategies of Baldur's Gate with the 3D graphics and character-building mechanism that was so successful in the original installment of NWN.

View the trailer for the game here. (takes a minute to download)

A privileged life

2006-10-23T00:03:00.000+05:30

Edit: I guess this article didn't come out the way I wanted it to... it is too preachy and dull... I'm going to leave it in the archives of this blog.

"Welcome to the lab," an array of friendly faces of different nationalities greeted me and shook my hand. A corner of my mind told me that I would spending most of my time over the next few years with these people. They would be my new best friends, and my family away from family.

Birthdays. Movies. Talk. Work. Lunch. Life. The tide of time swept us down myriad paths, but threads of our lives were intertwined irrevocably. The Indians in the lab, including me, were bonded even more closely by virtue of culture, language and history. And yet, we lived in the present, and for the present; there were gaps in our knowledge and understanding of each other. I glimpsed it when I joined some of them in the company of other people I didn't know. Like when Krish's friends came along for a movie one day.

Krish, short for a name with nearly as many syllables as there are states in India, known to our American friends as Kris. Krish, the friendly guy I knew who traded banter with more skill than a Dow Jones broker. Krish, who worked as hard as any of us, made as many mistakes as any of us, who was as normal as any of us.

Krish, who for some inexplicable reason, was addressed with a respectful Anna (Brother) by his friends.

If it happens once, I have to remember. If it happens twice, I have to understand. This time, Krish was explaining to some of us how the test for the driving licence would be conducted, and what were the common mistakes one could make. The aura of respectful deferment that I'd sensed earlier was far more marked this time. I just had to know what was going on. When I had a free moment with Krish and another friend from the lab, I asked, "Are you a mafia don? Why do they call you Anna all the time?"

He just smiled enigmatically. An even more enigmatic reply came from our friend there, who knew Krish better than I did, "When you do things for people that they cannot do for themselves, they respect you."

Broad conclusions can be drawn from broad data. Krish's friends spoke a far purer version of Telugu than I did, and from some of things they'd said, I knew they hailed from small towns or perhaps even villages. These were people who probably had none of the privileges I had, none of the knowledge, none of the connections, none of the training, and little of the money. They'd worked themselves to this reputed university through sheer tenacity and the dream of making their parents proud, giving them a comfortable life in their later years, and giving their children more opportunities than they'd had themselves. Krish's family, on the other hand, had moved to Hyderabad from a small town a long time ago, and made their fortune there. Krish had then trained for the IITs and made it, finally coming to this university. In other words, Krish had knowledge of both worlds. He must have been helping these people for a long time, telling them what to do and how to do it, from applying to an American university, to understanding the American way of life.

I found myself irrationally filled with shame. I'd led a far more privileged life than Krish. Is it not the responsibility of the privileged to guide and help those who are not so fortunate? I'd had the best teachers, the best facilities, the best guides; I could have done a lot more in my life for others, without losing anything myself. And I dared treat Krish like an equal.

I examined my own life in the light of what I now understood about respect. The surprising wedding invitation from a person I hadn't spoken to in ten years. My memories told me I'd helped him with his Math when we were in school. The equally surprising manner in which another old classmate tracked me down to reestablish our friendship. This was a kid who'd been the butt of all jokes and vicious teasing, but who I'd always treated fairly and as an equal. People whose lives I'd touched - apparently - more than their lives had touched mine. People whose respect I'd earned, without meaning to.

Every person I'd helped with their homework or their studies, every person I'd set an example to with my actions, every person for whom I did something they couldn't do for themselves... they respected me. I may not quite be the Godfather figure that Krish was, but I guess I haven't wasted my privileged life....

Reclaiming a lost childhood

2006-10-19T21:53:00.000+05:30

No, I didn't have a deprived childhood; quite the opposite, actually. I'm not talking about material, or even emotional needs here; I'm talking about books.

You heard me. Books. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I have my nose inside a book most of the time, and I've been that way right from childhood. However, after coming to the USA, I see before me a far wider array of books than I could even hope to get access to in those days. All the things I was fond of, and fantasized about, when I was in my early teens: starships, time travel, robots, swordsmen, dragons, wizards, and so on, wrought in black and white letters... and to me, black and white letters are good enough to conjure up vivid three dimensional images, sounds and feelings in my head.

So, although I had tons of books to read, the ones I love best were in short supply. Now, like a maniac, I've been reading all such books in an attempt to "reclaim my lost childhood". This weird mixture of refusing to grow up in some respects and lecturing like a veteran in other respects is amusing and annoying at the same time. And yet, I can't help but be me.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Last book I read: The White Gryphon by Mercedes Lackey

Old dogs and new tricks

2006-10-13T00:40:00.000+05:30

I've always held that the average human being's command of the English language starts dropping sometime between graduating high school and graduating college, and keeps dropping after that unless conscious measures are taken. We find it progressively difficult to maintain our fluency, leave alone improve. We become better at saying the things we are used to saying, but worse at the rest. I hunt and grope for words I know I know, but can't remember exactly, and settle for imperfect substitutes or long-winded explanations. For example, I wanted to say "esoteric" last week, but my memory failed me and I stuttered and ended up asking, "What's the word for known to a select few?"

I'm yet to reach a verdict on whether things work the same way with my courses and research. If I don't apply my knowledge of some field for a while, no matter how basic it is, will I forget? Am I finding it hard to learn some new topic simply because it is a difficult subject, or is it because I'm losing the will or capacity to learn new things?

Is it harder to teach an old dog new tricks because the old dog doesn't want to learn, or because the old dog finds it more difficult to learn? Are they, in fact, one and the same thing?

Alright, I know I'm just 23 and hardly an "old dog", but I swear my patience for course work is nowhere near what it used to be. Did I lose the inclination, or the capacity, or do I still have both but just feel insecure?

These are sad times indeed, when I need to fortify myself with caffeine to get work done. Time was, when I would perk up on looking at the problem and get through it with adrenaline instead of caffeine.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Last book I read: Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett

Relativity and all that jazz

2006-10-07T10:23:00.000+05:30

When I was in high school, our teachers had the opportunity to send a handful of us to spend time with renowned physicist and mathematician Alladi Ramakrishnan and learn something useful. So, this little group of about 5-6 "gifted" students went to the scientist's humble abode, where he tried to inspire us with talk and some interesting problems. After all, the gifted youth of today are the leaders of science and industry tomorrow.

I knew little about the man, but there were a couple of real geniuses in our group, and they were truly in awe of him. That alone convinced me to be respectful and try to not make a fool of myself. However, inept mathematician that I am, I got our host vexed with me rather quickly. My grades may be good, but I always knew I didn't belong in the same league as some of the other kids in that room. Incidentally, our friend the Artful Badger was with us that day, and he easily belongs in that "genius" category.

When we went back that day, I could only think of one thing to say.

"Guys... will we all grow up to be grumpy old men like that?"

I'd asked the question in all seriousness, but it earned me a laugh and an admonishment to remember what a great man we'd just met.

I never did find out if all gifted young men grow up to become grumpy old men. But that was my first brush with Relativity. Over that year, I had plenty more opportunities to understand the Special Theory of Relativity. I found it very interesting, and I think I grasped parts of it in principle, but very little of the mathematics. But after high school, things like Relativity just took a back seat. Engineering is pretty different from the pure sciences.

I've always wished I knew more physics and math. Fortunately or unfortunately, this PhD has opened up so many new vistas of learning which are of higher priority that I don't know when I will ever get back to studying things like physics, math... even sanskrit.

But someday I will learn Relativity. And all that jazz!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Last book I read: Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. There was a mention of time dilation at near-light speeds in that book which prompted this post.

A sigh of relief

2006-10-04T10:27:00.000+05:30

Dear Prashanth:

I am glad to inform you that you have passed the Department Candidacy Examination you took in August 2006. Congratulations !

Thus went the email. What a relief! I do not want to take that test again.

Next milestone: Comprehensive exam. I'm likely to take it in another one year or so. For now, I only have to think about where I will be taking my friends to celebrate.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Currently Reading: Dune Messiah By Frank Herbert

Out of Service

2006-10-03T02:09:00.000+05:30

So says the sign on the water fountain down the corridor, but its equally applicable to me. I've been down with cough, cold, fever, headache and a variety of other minor ailments this week and have almost, but not quite, recovered. Just today, I ordered my sub and said "No Onions" instead of "No Tomatoes" and had to suffer the consequences. Well, maybe that was because of my own absent-mindedness but I like blaming things on my illnesses. A little perverse pleasure.

I'm technically alright now, so its back to work and extra work to catch up with everything I've missed this week. The brief period when my illness wasn't too bad and I could sit in bed and read all day is over, and I'm back in "service" with a lot of serving to do.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Something meaningful...

2006-10-01T08:38:00.000+05:30

I started earning money only two years ago, and although it wasn't much at that point, I wanted to make a small donation to charity from my first salary. Of course, I had no idea how to do that, so I waffled until I submitted my Master's thesis and then handed the little sum to my Mom, telling her that I wanted something meaningful to come from it. Today, I was talking to her and she mentioned that the money had gone into paying the school fees for two poor children for a whole year! It nearly brought tears to my eyes. Trust Mom to know exactly what I would have wanted to do with it, and then getting the maximum out of it!

Little things like these help me remember that my efforts in life will never go wasted. Makes it easier to face the next sunrise.